


The Rose and its Thorn

by undasrego



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Gore, Hurt and comfort, Kidnapping AU, Short Story, Single Dad Alexander Hamilton, So does Alex, detective john laurens, high school freshman phillip, phillip hamilton literally deserves so much better
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-10
Updated: 2020-07-20
Packaged: 2021-03-05 06:01:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 15
Words: 26,473
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25179646
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/undasrego/pseuds/undasrego
Summary: Alexander Hamilton's world turns upside down when his son Phillip is kidnapped from their Brooklyn neighborhood, and his life becomes intertwined with gruff detective John Laurens.Phillip Hamilton's life was just beginning when he was knocked over the head and tied up in the basement of a man who profits off of the bodies of defenseless children.John Laurens has worked a million cases like this, but this one hurts so much more when he sees how hard Alex is working to just bring his child home.
Relationships: Alexander Hamilton/John Laurens
Comments: 42
Kudos: 135





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Alright, here's the deal. This is gonna be fifteen short chapters, I'm gonna publish it in clusters of five. This is not my best writing, I'm aware of that, but I'm just doing this because I want to, and whatever, I have the time, so I might as well. Anyway, go to Thorn.org and buy a tee shirt to support the end of child sex trafficking.

Alex knew something was off when Phillip didn’t come downstairs at seven. He stood up from the breakfast table and made his way up to Phillip’s room. He opened the door and found everything in place, but no Phillip. Alex hummed quietly, then went to the bathroom of their house and knocked. No Phillip. He tried the backyard, attic, basement. Nothing. Phillip was gone.

“Alright.”

This had happened before. Alex knew where Phillip was, too. At his girlfriend’s. So, Alex left his house and walked the block and a half there to Phillip’s girlfriend’s house. Phillip was dating a sweet girl named Theo Burr. They’d been together since seventh grade. She was nice, though her father, Aaron, had never really liked Phillip dating her. But, he and Aaron were friends, you had to be when you lived a block away and your kids spent every waking moment together, so it wasn’t awkward to go over there. And besides, Alex and Aaron briefly attended the same high school, though Aaron was a senior when Alex was a junior. They went way back.

Alex got to Aaron’s and knocked on his door.

Aaron opened it in his pajamas. “Hey, Alex, what’s up?”

“Here to get Phillip.”

“He’s here?” Aaron gasped.

“Probably.” Alex smiled, walking in. “I mean, come on, they’re just fifteen. It’s not like they’re doing anything. And may I remind you how many times you and your wife were caught in the back of the music room?”

“If she gets pregnant I want full child support,” Aaron threatened, though it was playful.

“Hey, dude, you got it.” Alex walked up to Theo’s room and knocked on the door. Theo answered it, hair up, only one lip adorning lipstick. Alex smiled kindly at her. “Hey, Theo. Just here to get Phillip.”

Theo gave Alex a confused look. “I mean, that would be fine if he was here.”

Alex creased his brows. “He’s not?”

“No, he’s not.” Theo opened her door and went back to her makeup desk. “I’m kind of mad at him actually. He said he’d come over and didn’t last night. Had me waiting up. Why? Is he not home?”

“No, he’s not.” Alex pressed his tongue to his cheek. “Alright, thank you.”

“Should I call him?” Theo asked.

“No, no, it’s okay, I got it. Tell me if you see him at school, or if you don’t.” Alex left the room, going back downstairs and nodding to Aaron and his wife. “Looks like Pip’s not here. Maybe he went to a friend's house or something. Keep on the lookout if he shows up?”

Dosia stood up, concern etched into her face. “Hey, you think he’s okay?”

“Yeah, I’m sure he is.”

Dosia shook her head, standing up. “No, Alex, I think you should go to the cops if you don’t get in contact with him soon. A lot of kids have been going missing lately, especially in southeast Brooklyn.”

Alex hadn’t been blind to the millions of ‘please call if found’ signs that littered his neighborhood. “I’m sure he’s fine. But yeah, I’ll keep it in mind.”

He left the house and instantly pulled out his phone, dialing Phillip’s number. It rang, then went to voicemail. Alex did it again, and again as he walked down the street. He did that until he got to his neighbor's house, and the bushes had a song coming from them. Alex put down his phone, staring at the bush that had Mr. Brightside playing from it. Alex knew that was Phillip’s ringtone because Alex hated that song.

Alex parted the bushes, and then pulled out his son's phone, which was still ringing. The screen was smashed, and there was blood on it. Alex sat there for a moment, staring at it, then stood up and went to his neighbor’s door. His neighbor was an old widow, a sweet woman named Annie who always baked Alex cookies for his birthday.

She answered the door in her robe. “Alex, honey, what’re you doing here so early?”

“Hey, Annie.” Alex squeezed his son’s phone in his hand. “I just, I just found Phillip’s phone in the bushes in front of your house, and I just… I was wondering if maybe he got hurt last night and knocked on your door?”

Annie put her hand to her mouth. “Oh, oh dear boy. I think you really should call the police. No, he hasn’t been around.”

Alex swallowed hard. His heart rate sped up. He felt dizzy, and his breathing increased. Somewhere, Annie asked him if he needed to sit down. Alex shook his head and turned, going to his driveway and getting in his car. There was a police station nearby. Alex drove there.

It was early, so there wasn’t really anyone to wait behind. Alex went up to the front desk, feeling a bit frantic at this point. His son’s phone was still clutched in his hand. “Excuse me, I need to report a missing person.”

The front clerk seemed uninterested. “How old is this person?”

“He’s fifteen.”

“How long has he been gone?”

“I don’t know, he left last night.”

“He left?”

Alex let out a frustrated sigh. “He always leaves at night to go see his girlfriend but he comes home by the morning, and his girlfriend said he never showed up, and-”

“You have to wait twenty-four hours to file a missing person’s account.”

Alex’s eyes widened. “What do you mean? No, you don’t understand, I found his phone in the bushes of my neighbor, and the screen is cracked and bloody, and he didn’t come home last night.”

“You have to wait twenty-four hours,” the desk attendant repeated in the same tone.

“What do you mean? Are you listening to me? I need someone looking for him!” Alex slammed his hand down on the desk. “I need you to push aside your incompetence-”

The desk attendant looked up. “I’m sorry, my incompetence?”

“Yes! I need you to-”

“Whoa! Whoa!” A voice interrupted their conversation, and Alex turned sharply to the person who was doing so. It was a man Alex had seen on TV, a cop or something. He was the man in charge of the missing children's case. When it went from one to five, to ten, it became a thing, and it became his thing. “What’s going on here?”

“My child is missing!” Alex gasped. “And this police station is being completely incompetent. Twenty-four hours! That’s bullshit, and-”

“Hey, hey, alright, hey, calm down.” John put his hand on Alex’s arm. “Alright, come on, let’s go to my office. We can talk, will that be okay?”

Alex was actually really grateful John was taking him seriously, but he had already chosen an angry narrative, so his voice was angry and serious when he thanked John.

John’s office was a mess, with a big corkboard full of pictures and a map of Brooklyn, files upon files stacked up on his desk. John sat down, tugging at his suspenders a bit. He was sharply dressed, crisp white shirt, brown pants, black suspenders. He had reflective aviators hanging out of his pocket, and his hair let down and messy. “Alright, Mr…”

“Hamilton,” Alex started. “My name is Alexander Hamilton, and my son’s name is Phillip Hamilton.”

John nodded, writing something down. “Alright, okay, what makes you believe he’s gone missing? Could he have run away?”

“No, no, not at all.”

“How’s your relationship with him?”

“Look, I know he didn’t run away.” Alex pulled out Phillip’s phone and placed it on John’s desk. “I found his phone in the neighbor's bushes, and I asked my neighbor if he had gotten hurt and went into her house for help, but she said no and-”

“Wait, wait, hold on.” John stood up. “You found evidence with blood on it and you touched it?”

“I just… I didn’t know.”

John nodded. “Alright, okay.” He pulled an evidence bag and put the phone in it. “Alright, do you know if this is his blood?”

Alex shook his head. “All I know is that it’s not my blood.”

John seemed to lose his carefree demeanor. “Alright, okay. I’m gonna need you to tell me about Phillip, everything you know.” John got up, walking to the door. “Okay, we’re gonna go get this to forensics, and then we’re gonna go to your neighborhood, okay? I gotta get a few cop cars.” John stepped out of his office, Alex following him. “Maria! Maria! Mars!”

A woman in an outfit similar to John’s, with tighter pants though, stepped out of an office. “Christ, what?”

“Hey, we got another lead,” John started. “This is Alex, his son went missing last night, found his phone in the bushes. We need to get on this, right now.”

Alex grabbed John’s arm. “Wait, what’s going to happen?”

“Okay, we’re gonna get a few cop cars to look around the area, mark the areas, and then we need to talk to you about Phillip, everything about Phillip.” John pulled Alex through the crowd, to another office. Inside was a tall man at his desk, working. “Hey, Georgey, I need about three police cars. We got another missing kid. Also, forensics.”

George King looked up. “Are we sure about this?”

John held up the bloody phone in a bag. “Yeah, we’re sure.”

“What’s the address?” George started, pulling out a sticky note pad.

“Eighty-three Crystal street, in Brooklyn, right near Brownsville,” Alex started.

George nodded. “Yeah, that’s right in the area where these have been going on. Alright, Alex, John, Maria, we’re gonna meet you there. I’ll dispatch three cars.”

“Alright, Alex, we’re gonna go to your house, and we need you to come with us. We’ll uh, we’ll get there and we gotta scout the situation, and while we do this, we need you to get as many clear pictures of Phillip as possible. School photos, anything like that, yeah?”

Alex nodded. “Is he going to be alright? You can find him, right?”

“We’re gonna do our best. I’m gonna ride with you, and you’re gonna tell me everything about him, okay?” John started. “Everything. His character, favorite food, color, scars, and birthmarks.”

Alex nodded again, shakily as they entered the parking lot. John got into the passenger side of Alex’s old Subaru, and Alex got into the driver’s seat, starting it. “Oh, my God, my son is… He’s gone.”

“Alex, we just need to get you home right now,” John muttered. “That’s all we gotta do, okay?”

Alex took a deep breath and pulled out into the street.

“Tell me about him. Everything you know,” John started, pulling out a notepad.

“He uh, he’s fifteen, he’s about five foot eight, a freshman. He plays basketball, and he has a girlfriend, Theo Burr. He’s Asian and Latino, his mother… she’s out of the picture. Never really wanted a kid. I did though, she thought she’d change her mind when she had Phillip, but she didn’t. It’s why we got divorced.” Alex knew he was nervously rambling, but it helped him. “Uh, he uh, he hates country music, and he has a birthmark on his cheek, and it looks like India. He has vitiligo on his hands and knees. He can speak Spanish and he’s learning Chinese.”

“Smart kid,” John muttered.

Alex smiled a tightlipped smile. “Yeah, he’s great.”

“What was he doing outside so late at night?” John asked.

“He just, he goes and visits his girlfriend. She just lives down the block, so like, it never seemed like a big deal to me. I swear, I’m not a bad parent, I just-”

“I know, Alex.”

Alex took a deep breath. “Is he going to be okay? I know so many kids have gone missing lately, and we haven’t found any of them.”

John swallowed. “We’re going to do our best.”

“I hear that most people who are taken, they’re killed and hidden within three hours. Usually, they know the kidnapper. In fact, most kids who are taken are usually taken by a father or mother, over custody, or something.”

John gave Alex an odd look. “Okay, true crime dot org.”

Alex shrugged awkwardly. “I’m a lawyer.”

“There we go.” John took a breath. “And just, look. If it was just your kid, I’d probably be giving you a different speil, but something’s been going on. If he struck this time, he’ll probably do it again. Maria, my partner, and I, we’ve narrowed it down to only a few options. Best guess is probably sex trafficking because all kids are generally-”

Alex slammed on the breaks. “I’m sorry, sex trafficking?”

“I know, but sex trafficking doesn’t mean he’s getting sent over the border or something, I promise.”

“I don’t think you realize why that concerns me!” Alex accused.

John took a breath. “I know, but sex trafficking would be the best-case scenario because that means that there’s advertising going on.”

Alex swallowed. “You said something about all the kids?”

“Ah, yeah.” John already had the door open when Alex pulled up to the house. “They’re all generally Phillip’s age, and an odd pattern I’ve been noticing is that they’re all Hispanic, black, brown, and generally ethnic kids.” John put on his sunglasses. “Where did you find his phone?”

Alex led John over to the bush where it was and John got on his knees, looking at the pavement.

“There’s blood on this pavement,” he stated.

“Oh, God,” Alex muttered.

“This could be good.” John got up. “If your son was smart enough to put up a fight, some of this could be the kidnapper's DNA.” He waved to cop cars pulling out, directing a cop over to where the phone was found, then pulling Alex to his house. “Ethnic kids being targeted is something I’ve seen before and heard about.”

“Why?” Alex’s eyes were wide, his stomach was turning with nausea.

“No one cares about the ethnic kids. He’s not taking pretty little white girls, no one’s gonna get really up in arms about this, no one with real power, that is.” John sat Alex down on his stoop. “Was Phillip into any drugs, gangs, or other activities that could cause interaction with people who want to hurt him?

“No, no, of course not,” Alex muttered. “He’s not a bad kid.”

“I know, I believe you, I just have to ask these questions.” John put his hand on Alex’s knee for a second. “Is there any reason to believe he would want to run away?”

“No, no, I don’t think so.” Alex shook his head. “I’m not a deadbeat, but I’m not a tiger parent either. I’m pretty lax with him as long as he maintains good grades, stays out of trouble. Every now and then I have to check him, but he’s not… he’s not a bad kid.”

John nodded. “Alex, I need you to go inside and get a school picture I can give to the police. I’m going to go talk to Maria, we’re going to check the area, talk to the neighbors. I need you to get a picture of Phillip, something out of his dirty laundry, and a hairbrush of his or something that would have his DNA.”

Alex had always been good in a crisis. He did what John said. John put the hairbrush and the hoodie Alex found in evidence bags and then gave the picture to Maria. One of Alex’s neighbors, Eric, a man who lived on the other side of Annie, came out of his house, over to Alex.

“Hey, what’s going on?” Eric asked.

“I think my son’s been taken,” Alex muttered, swallowing hard and looking at his neighbor.

Eric’s eyes widened. “Oh my God. Do you know what happened?”

Alex shook his head. “No, no, I have no idea.”

Eric was about to say something more, but then was pulled away by police to talk about last night and see if he had seen anything. Alex sat down on his stoop and put his head in his hands, trying to take deep breaths. It was barely nine am.

John sat down next to Alex. “Hey, look, I know this is stressful, but-”

Alex stood up and vomited over the side of the railing on his stoop.


	2. Chapter 2

Alex had coffee in his hand as he waited for John to show up. It was seven am, and the man at the front desk told Alex John didn’t show up until seven-fifteen. Instead of just drinking his coffee though, Alex was scrolling through his phone, saving articles about any of the disappearances that had happened among the past couple of months. John was right about one thing, all these kids were ethnic, brown, or black. There wasn’t a lot of media coverage on it, and whatever Alex could find was skimpy. This was pissing him off.

“Alex…” John sounded unsure when he saw the man sitting outside his office.

Alex didn’t care enough to notice, standing up and instantly greeting John. “Hello, John. I’m here to help.”

“You’re here to help,” John repeated with a tone of disbelief.

“I’m a lawyer, I’m not just a crazy parent. Come on, there has to be some kind of… kind of legal problem that’s holding you back.” Alex followed John into his office. “I can help.”

“Look, if you were the first parent telling me this, I would be genuinely excited.” John sat down. “But you’re not. Here’s the thing about parents helping out on missing child’s cases, they let emotions get in the way of actual work. You would, no matter how much you deny this, point fingers at the first person of interest we found. That’s now how this works.”

“But, I’m a lawyer, I can-”

“Yes, you’re a lawyer, but you’re not a detective.” John gave Alex a look. “I’m sorry, I wish I could offer you more peace of mind, but I just…” He trailed off, watching Alex’s worried face. “Look, I’m not technically supposed to be offering this, but you are a lawyer.” John stood up and pulled out a large manilla folder. “If you wanna look through this, see if you find a few patterns. You must’ve worked cases like this before, or something like it. Just, yeah. We need whatever we can get.”

Alex nodded, smiling. “Yes, yes, I can do that. Can I sit on your office floor?”

John nodded. “Knock yourself out, Alex.”

Alex just about did too. He sat on the floor and spread out the information in front of him. There was a lot going on. So far, ten kids had been taken in that area. Alex took his own notes, mumbling stuff to himself. John was doing a couple of other things, looking at other cases like this. That was an underrated form of detective work, in John’s opinion. They had all the original killers and kidnappers in the eighties, and now it was John’s job to sift through copycats, try and pick up clues of what would happen next. John had heard of cases like this one all across the country, DC and California. Ethnic kids, black women, immigrants, these people were targeted a lot. It’s the easiest way to get away with a crime.

About an hour went by and Alex still hadn’t left. John had done this with all the parents, line by line, just to get them out of his office. Usually, half an hour went by and they left. Alex didn’t even seem to want to go. John had no idea how he could sit on the floor like that in dress pants too. Alex was adamant though, taking notes and thoroughly reading through the documents.

John said by the second hour, Alex would be gone. Then by the third. By the fourth, it was John’s lunch, so he stood up and looked at Alex. “Come on, let’s get something to eat.”

“I’m fine,” Alex muttered.

“Alex, come on.”

John had to resist the urge to say ‘okay bottom’ when Alex immediately complied. Alex was obviously not one to be pushed around, but John figured his top voice would do him some good if Alex got on his nerves.

“Have you come up with anything?” John asked.

“No, and yes, and no.” Alex shook his head. “Same area, black and Hispanic kids, same age range. Same body types too.”

John creased his brows. “What?”

“Yeah, he has a type.” Alex pulled out his notes. “My son is skinny, he’s just a small framed person. Same with all these other kids. He’s going for kids who have sexually developed but look younger than they are. I mean, look at these kids. Skinny, short, big eyes and round faces. Young, black, and brown, small framed kids. Six girls, five boys, pretty even. I’ve seen people do this, collect kids, and make a family of their own. It’s pretty fucked up.”

“Yes, but eleven kids?” John muttered as they walked to the taco truck near the station.

“Mormons?”

John snickered. “Maybe. But still, I can't put all our money on that. Gonna have to come to terms with the fact that this could be sex trafficking.”

“I don’t want to.”

John sighed. “I know. But this is… this is not a situation where you can do that. If it was sex trafficking, I’d hate to say it, but finding them would be easier. If we could even find them.”

Alex gave John a worried look.

“We will.”

Alex bought his own taco and then sat down on a bench with John. He knew he was being annoying, but he couldn’t help it. His son was gone. Out of habit, he went into Phillip’s room this morning to check on him. He hadn’t slept the night before, he just couldn’t. The only thing running through his head was the pain Phillip could be enduring or the fact that his son could be dead.

Alex followed John back to his office and then continued to work. John’s little movements and humming were actually a lot nicer than being at home, quiet, with nothing to do. Alex was going to get right back to work, but he heard John sigh annoyedly. He looked up, making eye contact with the man.

“Look,” John started. “Your devotion is incredible, but you need to get out of here.”

Alex looked up, astonished, and shocked. “I’m sorry, you want me to go?”

John tilted his head. “Believe it or not, Alex, this is a… an actual workplace. Look, just, if you’re really worried, drive around. Seriously, maybe he got high and wandered off. Could’ve happened.”

“He didn’t do drugs!” Alex gasped.

“Alex, you don’t know everything about your kid,” John groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I was very close to my mother, but did she know I was choosing to smoke pot on the weekend? No. Alex, maybe your son was a bit more… secretive than you knew him to be. Look, you wanna help? Go home and search his room. See if he’s got any secrets.”

“That’s an invasion of his privacy!”

“Well, he’s missing, so I would suggest you break your own moral codes.” John sighed. “I need you to get out of here, Alex.”

Alex took a breath. “Can you at least give me your number? Tell me if anything happens?”

John nodded. “If it’ll get you out of here.”

John gave Alex his number, and then Alex was sent on his way. Alex went back to his home, stepping past the taped area where Phillip’s blood was found. Alex walked into his house and then up to Phillip’s room. Phillip had a nice room, clean, yet messy. Posters overlapping, clothes strung up and either drying or not quite dirty enough to wash but not clean enough to put back in his drawers.

Alex didn’t even know where to start. He tried to think back to where he would hide his stuff when he was a foster kid. He started by pulling out any drawer he found, knocking on it. Alex hid lots of shit under fake bottoms in drawers. He’d find cardboard and paint it a similar color, then put shit under it to keep them hidden.

Phillip though, wasn’t like Alex, because Phillip knew that Alex would never search his room. So Alex pulled about an ounce of weed out of Phillip’s sock drawer, along with a pipe. He didn’t really care so much about that. It was the razors, bloody tissues, and medical supplies that made him feel sick.

Was Phillip depressed?

He had never really acted depressed. He was a laid back person, no real-life problems. Oh, God, what if Phillip hadn’t been kidnapped? What if he just killed himself?

Alex began through Phillip’s desk for any letters, anything of the sort. Nothing. His phone was in the bushes, his wallet was on his nightstand, and even his jar of money, which he thought Alex didn’t know about, still remained in his closet. All of Phillip’s bags and clothes were in his drawers. No, Phillip didn’t run away, he didn’t kill himself. Alex was sure of that.

Still though, whatever was happening, Alex didn’t like it. He wanted his son to be home. 


	3. Chapter 3

It had been three months. Well, if you asked Alex, it had been three months, one week, and five days. Three months, one week, and five days since Alex saw his son, since Alex had focused on anything but the case. He quit his job, spent every moment thinking, working on, and talking about the case. Anything he could get from John, he took and analyzed it until he knew everything about it. He got in front of cameras every second he could, made social media accounts dedicated to his son. He was so focused, it was scary. It was at a point where he didn't talk to his friends anymore.

"John, have you considered the mafia?" Alex asked, standing up and walking with John back to his office. This had also become a common habit. Tuesdays and Thursdays, Alex would go into John's office and discuss theories. It used to be every day, but John basically told Alex he couldn't do that every day, so Tuesdays and Thursdays became when Alex was allowed back.

"The mafia?" John questioned.

"Yes, see, in..." Alex rummaged through some papers in his arms. "The seventies, John Paul Getty III, he got kidnapped by-"

"That was in Rome, crime families in New York aren't as prominent, and also, they have no reason."

"Well, what about sex trafficking?"

"They don't do that. I know they don't."

"Well, what about a militant group? Have you considered, since none of the kids are white, that maybe this has more to do with the KKK? Or a white supremacist organization?"

"We've been looking into that. It's hard to put your thumb on those guys."

"Has there been a connection between the locations of the abductions and robberies?"

"No." John let out a bit of an exasperated sigh. Little did Alex know, he had gone over these things before. He thought it might shock Alex, but he was a detective.

"Have you gotten any new leads?" Alex continued, sitting down in John's office.

"We haven't."

"Why not?"

"Evidence doesn't grow on trees. Look, sometimes people are sloppy, but this guy isn't, which leads me to believe he's part of a trafficking ring. Too many kids, similar ages, vanishing without a trace. My people have stopped looking in houses and started checking places like Craigslist, personal advertising, things like that. All porn videos, scanning facial recognition for everyone. When it's kids like this though, their face is never in the picture."

"That's sick."

"It is."

"Can't you do like, body recognition scans?"

"I wish." John pulled out a file. "It's just... trafficking is really hard to take down. Have you talked to Thorn?"

"Thorn?"

"Thorn. They're a company that works to end child sex trafficking. Maybe get in touch with Kendall Rae or something like that, she does a lot of videos about this and is a big supporter of Thorn. I bet if you could get their attention, more people would find out. She's got followers all over the world."

Alex paused, then pulled out his laptop, opening it, and doing some research. "Why is this such a huge problem?"

"What? Sex trafficking of minors?"

"Yes."

"Because people are fucked up. I'm a child sex crimes detective. There are so many sex crimes against children that there's a whole division dedicated to it in the police."

Alex paused, then looked at John. "Why child sex crimes? Seems like a dark thing to get into."

John frowned, then kept looking down at his papers. "Because no child should go through this."

Alex nodded and then continued his own research. He updated all of the social media, putting up a new picture of Phillip and talking about how he needed people to find him. He continued looking through everything, conspiracies, prior kidnappings in New York, anything he could.

He stood up and looked at John's corkboard, his connection with the fifteen kids that were taken. "Are there any noticeable connections between them?"

"Just like last time you asked me, they were all within a twenty block radius, all similar ages, all of color, an equal mix of girls and boys." John ran his hands through his hair. "Remind me again why you have to be here?"

"Because this is my son, I want to help."

"Your definition of help is a lot different than mine," John pointed out.

"Well, look, I'm sorry, but my son is missing. I don't know where he is, he's been gone for three months, so excuse me if I'm a little worried."

"Alex, you're obsessive!" John took a deep breath. "I know you're scared, but I need you to trust me. I need you to let law enforcement handle this."

"I can't do that. I need to help. I need to do something."

"Then do something!" John shook his head. "Alex, believe it or not, sitting in here and pitching concepts at me doesn't do as much as you think it does. You want my advice?"

Alex frowned, then nodded.

"Print out a bunch of pictures of Phillip, and put them up everywhere you can. Stop talking to me, start talking to magazine editors, news reporters, Youtubers, influencers, celebrities, whoever has a following. You might get ignored, but you might end up on NBC talking about this, or you might get your story promoted by Thorn, or you might end up talking about Phillip on some Youtubers channel. I'm not the person who will be able to help you."

"But John, what does all that stuff do besides start a hashtag?"

"It does so much more than that. You know something? I-"

Maria poked her head into John's office. "John-"

"One second Maria." John looked back to Alex. "When parents do that, it makes my job easier, because the tips start rolling in, people get involved, people remember the kid they saw on NBC news and keep an eye out for him. It's more than just-"

"John!"

"What?" John gasped, looking over at Maria.

"Another kid has gone missing. His family's in the waiting room, we need you to take their statement."

John's energy plummeted, and every bit of him felt weak. He looked back to Alex, a frown tugging at his lips. "You gotta go, Alex. Please."

Alex swallowed hard, then nodded. "I'm sorry."

"Just, take my advice." John began to pull a statement paper out of his desk, then looked at Alex. "The media is a powerful weapon, more powerful than I am."

Alex went back home after that, making another pot of coffee and then printing out about three hundred more missing posters for Phillip. He had done this in the beginning, but he'd do it again. While he was waiting for them to print, he found emails, he found social media, addresses, and wrote whatever he could.

When the posters were printed out, he collected them all and went to the Burr's house. Theo was in school, Aaron was at work, but Dosia was home. She worked from home and was generally done by this point in the day, so he knew he wasn't interrupting anything when knocking.

"Hey, Alex," Dosia smiled sadly when she opened the door.

"Hey, you wanna go for a walk? I have some flyers to hang up."

"Yeah, let me get my jacket, stapler, and some tape. I'll help." Dosia left, and came back a few minutes later with the supplies, then took half the flyers and began to walk with Alex. "So, how've you been?"

"I don't really know." Alex laughed a bit. "I mean, all I've been doing is working on this. I've not really made the time to really notice how I'm feeling."

"Alex, you gotta take care of yourself too."

"I can't though. I mean, Phillip, and not just Phillip, but so many other kids, they're out there, maybe being hurt or worse, I can't just... I have to help them."

Dosia sighed. "Your name means defender of people, you know that?"

"Yeah, my mother always reminded me of that."

"So it makes sense that you're working hard, but you're people too, Alex. Help yourself a little bit. You working yourself to the bone isn't going to do anyone any good."

"Except for Phillip," Alex pointed out.

"Until you burn out and then it's not. Just, let's go for a walk tomorrow. A normal walk. One where we aren't..." Dosia sighed. "Alex, I don't want you to kill yourself over this."

"He's my son." Alex stapled up posters. "How would you feel if it was Theo's picture on these missing posters? If she was the one who could be trapped in some freak's basement, getting raped or beaten? You would work just as hard as I am because that's your child. Phillip is my child, and I will _die_ before I give up on him. When he was at home, I felt the exact same way. I'm not... I'm not going to rest until he's back in my arms, Dosia. I know you wouldn't if this was Theo missing."

Dosia sighed, then taped up a poster. "Alright. But I'll still always help you put up posters, alright? You don't have to do this alone."

"Thank you."

Alex and Dosia walked around the neighborhood for a while, until all the posters were up, then parted ways and went home. Alex checked his email, and sadly, nothing. Because he hadn't eaten in a while, he ordered some take out and sat out on the stoop, waiting for it. He was pretty in his own head, so when Theo, walking home from school, sat down next to him, it startled him.

"Theo, gosh." He gave her a quick side hug. "How're you, hun?"

"I'm alright," she lied. "How about you?"

"I'm alright," Alex lied.

They both sat there for a little bit in the quiet air, thinking. Before Phillip went missing, Alex and Theo would talk a lot. Theo wanted to pursue law, environmental to be more specific, but law nonetheless. She would talk to Alex about law, about how to get into law school, what classes she should take in college to look good on a law school application. They had a lot in common, so they would talk a lot. Since Phillip disappeared, they could really only stomach sitting together in a painful silence.

"I should get home," Theo decided, standing up.

"You be safe, okay? Text me when you get there." Alex gave her a worried look. "Do you want me to walk you?"

"No, it's alright. I have pepper spray, and also a taser, and you can literally see my house from here so if something happens you'll be right here."

"Yeah, I guess so." Alex gave her a small wave. "Have a nice night. Tell your dad I said hi."

"Alright. You too."

Alex's take out came and so he drew a bath and sat in it, eating his Thai food. It was 3 in the afternoon, but he was exhausted. He hadn't slept the night before. He'd been doing that more often. So, when the bath was done, he put on his pajamas and brushed his teeth.

Alex was walking to his room when he stopped at Phillip's door, then pushed it open and stepped in. The room itself smelled like Phillip. It smelled like incense, cedar cologne, and the Homesick candle that apparently smelled like road trips. Alex climbed into Phillip's bed and pulled Phillip's blankets over him, closing his eyes. He had done this more than he liked to admit after Phillip went missing. Phillip's radio, which never got turned off, played in the background. It was the college station, run by stoners and old punk fans.

Alex hugged Phillip's pillow and cried. He cried until he fell asleep, the smell of his son almost comforting, but still heartbreaking.


	4. Chapter 4

Every kid was kidnapped within a twenty block radius, which meant a lot of people Alex had met at block parties had missing kids. Kids who played on Phillip’s basketball teams, kids who Alex coached in little league, kids who he saw around the neighborhood, kids who were once boy scouts that sold him popcorn. Alex needed to talk to a parent who understood, a parent who he knew he could be honest with. He went to the Mulligan’s home. Two dads, Lafayette and Hercules, and their son, Georges.

Georges and Phillip knew each other through sports. Georges played basketball, but his main sport was baseball. Phillip’s main sport was basketball, but he’d go to the school games. He and Georges were friends in the sense of it. They’d hung out before, they could talk, they were never mean to each other. Maybe they weren’t too often one on one friends, but if Phillip was planning a group hang out? Georges was always invited.

Alex knocked on their door and waited a little bit until Lafayette answered. He looked tired, maybe even a little sick, but he mustered a smile upon seeing Alex. They knew each other through sports, through school events and neighborhood parties. Georges had been missing for eight months. Phillip, at this point, had been missing for six.

“Alex, hello,” Lafayette croaked out. “I apologize, I fear I’ve come down with a cold.”

“May I come in?”

“Yes, yes.” Lafayette stepped aside. “My husband, he is here too, in the kitchen making tea. Would you like a cup?”

“Ah, no thank you. I’m not much of a tea drinker, and I’ve probably had way too much coffee already today.” Alex chuckled.

Lafayette led him into the living room, and they both sat down. Lafayette smiled, accepting the cup of tea Hercules was handing him. “Darling, Alex has come to visit.”

“Ah, Alex. Hello.”

Alex noted how depressed and tired both of them seemed. “I’m sorry to just, drop by, but I was really sick of…” Alex tried to figure out how to phrase what he was trying to say. “I mean, I just wanted to speak to you because, I think you’re the only people who would understand what I’m trying to say, yeah?”

Lafayette nodded, clenching his jaw a bit. “Yes.”

“I’m sorry, I really, I didn’t mean to stop by and just, bring all this up, but I’m so tired of speaking to people who don’t get it.”

“We are too,” Hercules admitted. “Cops tell us to leave it be, friends tell us to rest. But we can’t. I mean, that’s our child.”

“I just, I really hope that they’re still out there.” Lafayette’s voice cracked. “I try to stay as hopeful as possible, but what if… eight months is a long time. I pray, every day, hoping that he’s alive and well, that he’s not hurt, that he’s safe.”

“I don’t think we, as parents who have been afflicted by this serial kidnapper, should do this alone. There’s so many of us, I mean, why _are_ we coping alone?”

“No one has the energy to form a social club,” Hercules pointed out.

“It wouldn’t be a social club. It would be… I don’t know. I really don’t know what I’m saying. I’m just so tired of doing all this alone and it’s been a real long time since I’ve gotten a good night’s sleep. I mean, you get it.”

“We do.” Lafayette sipped his tea and leaned forward. “I mean, everything I do feels wrong. I feel it isn’t right to do anything for myself while my son is missing, but I also feel like I shouldn’t be trying to help, since that is what I was told by detectives, but I also know I should help, but I do not know where to start.”

“None of us do.” Alex tugged at his hair. “I mean, no one planned for this. I can give you my twenty-year plan in increments of three months, I was creating budgets in sixth grade, but I didn’t… this wasn’t something I planned for.”

“Someone should seriously write a book.”

Alex furrowed his brows. “Yeah, someone should…”

“Police keep telling us they're doing everything they can, but it’s just, it’s frustrating because you want to feel like if they were really doing everything they could, your child would be back in your arms by now.”

Alex nodded. “None of them, they don’t know what it’s like to just… to have your child stolen from you. It’s painful.”

“I almost wish they did, just so we wouldn’t have to explain to them why we can’t just… let it go.”

Alex stayed and talked a little longer with Hercules and Lafayette, then went back to his house and cried in Phillip’s room for a bit. When he was done, he laid out on one of Phillip’s beanbags, looking around the room dully at the art Phillip had put up. It was weird, hippie liberal kind of stuff, but Alex liked it. On an easel, there was a half-finished painting of something, it wasn’t painted enough to tell though.

Alex stared up at the ceiling, sighing. He was so sick. He missed his son so much. Alex got up and found his laptop, then sat down on the couch and turned on some home movies. The first one was Phillip when he was six. They were at six flags, they were laughing, Phillip was just a little kid, so happy and smiley. His little hand was wrapped around Alex’s pointer finger.

Phillip’s mother was never in the picture. It was just Alex, taking care of Phillip from the time he was a baby. Alex raised him in a studio apartment, walking around all night bouncing him, trying to get him to sleep. Alex attended law school and became a father at the same time. He studied, went to class with Phillip strapped to his chest in a baby Bjorn. All the girls loved it, thought Phillip was so cute. It got Alex quite a few dates, ones that he didn’t attend since he was a single father in law school.

Alex loved his son from the moment he saw him. Alex loved everything about Phillip. He couldn’t have asked for a better child. He loved Phillip.

Two hours of home videos and Alex had successfully cried himself into a migraine. He stood up and took some painkillers, then went for a walk. He wanted dinner. He didn’t know where he was going though. Alex just felt so lost. He felt like he was searching for home. Without Phillip though, nowhere felt like home.

Alex ended up at Chinese place, ordering too many calories. He was barely a minute away from Lincoln Terrace, so he went there and found a bench to sit on.

It was a long night, at least to Alex. He stayed on that bench for a long time, eating his food slowly and trying to figure out why the universe chose him to deal with such pain, such horridness. Alex missed his son more than anything. He would’ve given anything to have Phillip sitting next to him at that moment.

Alex jumped when his phone buzzed. It was John, and for a moment, he wondered if something had changed, if a lead had been found. He answered it, hope in his chest. “Hey, John.”

“Hey.” John’s voice was tired. “I’m just calling to check-in. How are you?”

Alex’s shoulders slumped. “I’m fine. Just sitting in Lincoln Terrace park, eating dinner.”

“Ah, yeah.”

They were both quiet.

“I talked to some other parents today,” Alex mentioned. “I know a few of them, so I went over and we talked for a little bit.”

“Yeah? How was that?”

“It was alright. I don’t know.”

“You stopped coming around as much,” John pointed out. “My Tuesdays and Thursdays are a lot quieter.”

“Yeah, figured I was getting annoying.”

“Huh.” John was quiet. “Well, I didn’t realize how much I enjoyed the company. If you want to come over tomorrow, even if you don’t want to help me work, just sit with me.”

“Yeah, I’d like that.” Alex chuckled. “I can bring some egg sandwiches. There’s this bodega down the street from my place, run by these Romanians. They make killer breakfast food.”

“That would be great.” John paused. “Are you doing alright?”

“No.”

“Fair enough.” There was static for a moment. “Alright, well, I’ll see you tomorrow, okay? I’ll get coffee.”

“Alright.”

“Bye.”

“Bye.”

Alex went home after that and slept in his son’s room. He’d been doing that more and more often. It felt like a way to be close to Phillip. Alex would burn the candles, the incense, spray the cologne so the room didn’t lose its smell.

That next morning, Alex got the breakfast sandwiches and went to John’s office. They nodded to each other but didn’t talk. Alex updated Phillip’s social media pages, John worked. They were quiet, listening to the public radio John played all day. John’s biggest fear was his cop work turning him into a republican, so a constant stream of NPR played in his office. Alex liked it. He was currently writing a small blurb to submit to any newspaper or magazine he could find.

“How is that most recent family?” Alex asked.

“They aren’t doing great.” John swallowed. “No one involved in this really is. It’s not like a murder or something like that. I almost wish it was.”

Alex shot him a look.

“Not like that.” John huffed. “Just, when someone is killed, the family is able to move on, to start to recover emotionally, even as the case continues. When someone goes missing, that emotional closure is just…” He swallowed. “It just hurts to see so many people in pain.”

Alex nodded slowly. “I wish I could do something more, but at the same time, I mean, I just, I can’t give up on Phillip yet. I won’t until I see him.”

John’s heart twanged in a painful sort of way. “Alright.”

Alex stayed there for a while, then left when John’s lunch break rolled around. He picked up lunch from a take out place, and then arrived back at home.

Without Phillip, and without work, his life was empty. He made it clear that his absence from work was temporary, just until Phillip was found, and his boss completely understood. Alex didn’t ask for any pay, he had always saved up for an emergency situation, and luckily this whole living-alone lifestyle where all he ate was cheap Chinese take out, and canned soup was surprisingly affordable.

He left the take out on the counter and went back to sleep.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, the first chapter cluster is published. I don't know when the next one will be. Maybe soon. I'm gonna try to get this written. I have another short story kinda thing I want to do, and then a longer one after I finish the Harry Potter au thing.

It was early in the morning when Alex got a call from John. John was in New Jersey. He told Alex to come over. He was in Weehawken specifically, and that was where Alex needed to be too. John didn’t say why over the phone. His voice was gravely and rough like he’d been chain-smoking or yelling.

Alex got to Weehawken as quickly as possible, taking an Uber to where John was. It was in a park by the river. You could see Hell’s Kitchen clear as day.

Alex stayed back and watched the police for a little bit, trying to get a read of the situation. His head was fogged with sleep still, so it was a bit hard for him to read the situation. That, and he had left his glasses at home, and didn’t put on any contacts. He could barely place the Uber order on his phone.

Alex walked over to the group, finding John almost instantly. He was standing by a trash can, stubbing out one cigarette in the ashtray while lighting up another one. He had been chain-smoking, Alex noted.

“Hey.”

John looked up, then took the cigarette out of his mouth and snubbed it, leaving it in the ashtray. “Hey, Alex.”

“Did you… is there something new?”

“Can we sit and talk?”

“No.”

“Okay.” John took a deep breath, remembering why he sometimes hated his job. “Well, early this morning, Weehawken police got a tip about a suspicious character doing something down here, and then… uh, well, they called us.”

“Why? Was it Phillip?”

“No, it wasn’t.” John swallowed. “We recovered a plastic bag from the bottom of the river at six am this morning, and uh, inside we found…” He stopped speaking for a moment. “God, Alex, I don’t know how to tell you this. I’m sorry, but we found remains of Phillip’s body.”

John had to move fast to catch Alex’s limp body. Alex was completely boneless, face pale, eyes rolled back in his head. John called over a medic and they helped him lower Alex to the ground. John took off his bomber jacket, placing it under Alex’s head. Someone got a water bottle. It took about two minutes for Alex to regain consciousness. Two minutes for him to open his eyes, mutter something, and then sit up, drinking the water bottle.

“What happened?” Alex asked.

“You fainted.”

“Oh.” Alex took a sip of the offered water bottle. “Why?”

“Let’s sit on the bench.”

Alex, when all the blood wasn’t quite back in his head, was actually quite agreeable. So, he sat down on a park bench with John, sipping his water.

“Do you remember what I said to you before you passed out?”

“I don’t.”

John suppressed a groan. He didn’t want to have to say it again. “Alright, well… we uh, we got a tip from someone about a suspicious character in the park, and uh-”

“Was it Phillip?” Alex’s eyes were wide and hopeful.

“No.” John hated that he had to say this again. “From the river, we recovered uh, we recovered a plastic bag, and… I’m so sorry, Alex, but it had remains of Phillip’s body.”

“What?”

“I’m sorry.”

“Hold on, hold on, what do you mean remains?”

John swallowed down bile in his throat. “We found hair that looked like it had been ripped out of Phillip’s scalp, we found uh, we found flesh, a tooth, fingernails.”

“Wait, so what does this mean?”

John huffed, looking around a bit. “Due to the circumstances, the fact that he’s getting rid of such things, the whole… the situation, we can only assume that Phillip is no longer with us.”

“What does that mean?”

John was quiet. “Alex.”

“No, hold on, you can’t just-” Alex stood up. “That’s not true.”

“Alex, I’m so sorry. I really am. This is not how I wanted this to end, it really isn’t, I’m so sorry. We’re taking it to the lab right now, hopefully, we’re going to find something that will help us find who took him.”

“You’re lying!” Alex yelled. “This isn’t true!”

“Alex, please, I’m so sorry. I really… I wish I knew what to say.”

“You’re a fucking liar!” Alex was mad. “Because he can’t be dead, John. He can’t be dead. He can’t be dead-” His voice began to crack with sobs. “He can’t be dead, he’s not dead, he’s not dead, he can’t be dead, he can’t-”

John took Alex into his arms, hugging him as Alex began to cry. “I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry.”

“He’s not dead, he’s not dead,” Alex repeated. “He can’t be dead.”

John held Alex tightly, wishing he could do more.

Alex stopped talking, just cried. John held him like that for a very long time. Other officers threatened to arrest the press for being in a crime scene. Alex was absolutely a mess. He couldn’t stop crying. He couldn’t stop, even for a second. John asked a medic to find an emergency contact for Alex.

John hated how Alex’s sobs sounded. They were painful, loud, so devastatingly sad.

Alex’s emergency contact was his boss, George. The man showed up about an hour later. Alex tried to collect himself, but he didn’t do a very good job with it. John stood up, pulling George aside.

“Hello, my name is Detective Laurens, I’ve been working this case.”

“Hello, I’m George Washington.”

“It’s nice to meet you. Uh, look, basically we found Phillip’s remains, and we just… Alex is a mess, and he needs someone to go home with him, make sure he doesn’t do anything stupid or rash.” John looked back to Alex. “He’s really not… he’s not taking it well.”

“I don’t know anyone who would.”

John nodded. “Alright, I’m gonna let you… yeah.”

George went back over to Alex, sitting down next to him and putting his arm around him. “Hey.”

Alex didn’t respond, just hiccuped, and sipped his water.

“I’m gonna take you home, alright?”

Alex nodded.

George ordered an Uber and the two of them waited until it arrived. Press was there, but George managed to block them from seeing Alex. They got into the Uber and rode to Alex’s home in silence.

“I’m sorry for your loss,” George muttered softly as they got back to Alex’s house. “I’m gonna stay with you tonight, okay?”

“You don’t have to,” Alex muttered.

“I know.” George found a takeout menu and ordered food. He found Alex in the living room, his laptop in front of him. “Are you okay?”

“No.”

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“No.”

“Son.”

“Don’t call me that.” Alex looked at George. “I know you’re my boss but I need you to stop talking to me right now.”

George nodded. He didn’t speak as he sat down next to Alex on the couch, and he didn’t say anything as he watched Alex scroll through job openings at a company called Thorn.

“You can watch TV if you want to.”

George didn’t turn on the TV. He leaned back and closed his eyes.

Alex applied for a job as a lawyer representing Thorn in New York, then donated a thousand dollars to it before standing up and walking into the kitchen. He got a large glass of water and sat back down on the couch. He worked all night, and all through that next morning, writing and writing. Trying to make sense of it all. Logically, his son was dead.

Emotionally? Alex didn’t really know.

You could say anyone is dead, even if they aren’t. Putting those words together isn’t hard. But if someone was really dead, if someone had died, accepting it was the hardest part. Especially when there was no body for you to see.

Alex turned on his coffee machine around six am. George was still there. He had curled up on the couch when Alex went to work in the kitchen.

At that moment, Alex was sad or scared. He was mad. Someone took his son from him, and then killed him. That made Alex mad, that made Alex furious. So, he was applying to work for Thorn, scheduling as many interviews as he could with the press, writing as many words as he could.

He would not let Phillip’s death be for nothing. And he would do everything in his power to make sure it happened to no other child.


	6. Chapter 6

Skin. Dirty mattresses. Hot breath. Spit.

Phillip wondered if he could remember all the presidents in order.

The man tugged at Phillip’s hair and moaned loudly, moving his hips faster.

There was Washington, Adams, Jefferson, Madison, Monroe, Adams again, Jackson. Phillip winced when something hurt. He wasn’t sure what hurt, he was so disconnected from his body at that point in time that he couldn’t even feel the sheets pressed up against his face. He couldn’t remember any more presidents, so he tried to remember the lineup for the 2009 Yankees. Robertson, Rodriguez, Jeter, Molina, Wang, Posada, Hughes.

The man finished and left Phillip on the bed.

Phillip rolled on his side and looked around the room. It was plain and boring. He wondered if the man in the other room had a child. Some of them did. Phillip wanted to sleep, but he didn’t.

There was water on the nightstand. Phillip drank it.

“Get dressed.”

It was a command Phillip followed loosely. He put on the grey sweater, the black basketball shorts. He could hear voices in the other room. Money was being exchanged. Phillip was taken out of the apartment and into a red minivan. It was driving to a parking garage, and then Phillip got into a green Subaru. He was forced to lay on the floor of the back seat, but he was used to it by now.

The car pulled into the garage, and Phillip was taken out. He was stripped down again and tied back up in the basement. His stomach ached with hunger. He wondered if the nails he had bitten down had any calories. They ate bugs down there, anything they could get their hands on. Once there was a rat. Four kids got sick from it.

Phillip had been in that basement for three months now. Three months without sunlight. Three months without proper nutrition. He missed his dad. He missed being outside. He missed the most basic shit. His missed pissing in toilets. He missed the smell of fresh air. The basement smelled like shit. Literally.

“Hey.” Georges looked at Phillip. “Are you alright?”

“I’m fine.”

They did this every time one of them left. Neither of them were really fine, but at this point, if you weren’t bleeding or concussed, that was a really good day.

Phillip could hear someone dry heaving, he didn’t know who though. Most of the kids he knew. He had gone to middle school with them. Most of them were his age or younger. Georges was the only one he really knew though, so he spoke to him and only him.

“Did they feed you?”

Phillip shook his head. “No. I got some water though.”

“That’s good.” Georges found Phillip’s hand in the dim light and took it.

Phillip squeezed it and they sat back, closing their eyes and trying to think of better times. It was the only thing you could do down there. Some kids were starting to lose it.

Phillip was pretty sure this was sex trafficking. It’s what made sense. It’s the only thing they were used for. The man upstairs never touched them, not more than he had to, but he let other people touch them. Phillip remembered being forced to pose for the man upstairs, pictures being taken. Phillip wondered where those photos were, but he knew they were probably online somewhere.

“You remember lo mein?” Georges asked.

“I think so.” Phillip did remember what lo mein, but the flavor wasn’t strong in his memory anymore.

“When we get out, that’s gonna be the first thing I eat. Just… a big bowl of lo mein. What about you? What do you want to eat when you get out?”

“Curried goat, or maybe… strawberries.”

“God, strawberries.”

“My girlfriend loves strawberries.” Phillip smiled softly. “She’d… she was just so…” He stopped talking.

“I miss home.”

“Me too.”

“I have a book I haven’t finished yet. I hope my parents don’t get rid of it.”

“I’m sure they won’t. What book was it?”

“The Scarlet Pimpernel.”

“Was it any good?”

“I liked it. What about you? Any books?”

“No, but I did have a painting. Then I was following some webcomics, and listening to a few story podcasts.”

“When we get out, you’ll probably have a lot of episodes and chapters to binge.”

Phillip started to cry. “Yeah.”

Georges was a light of positivity, no matter what. Phillip supposed it was how he coped. Thinking of a future when they were out of there when they were home. It was almost nice sometimes, but most of the time, it just made Phillip sad.

“Can’t wait to listen to all the new albums,” Georges sighed.

“God, yeah.”

“I hope Kendrick Lamar released something.”

“Pussy Riot. I want a new album from them.”

“Jaden.”

“My Chemical Romance.”

Georges laughed. “Are they releasing new music?”

“I think so.”

“Huh.”

Phillip groaned a bit, clenching his stomach. “I miss music.”

“Me too.”

“Do you think we’re eating tonight?”

“I don’t know.”

“I’m fucking starved.” Phillip closed his eyes and tried to fight back a groan as another hunger pang hit his stomach. “The first day free, what are you gonna do?”

“Eat. Catch up on Outdaughtered with my parents. Go for a walk. Sit outside and read. Pet my dog. What about you?”

“Kiss my girlfriend, hug my dad, eat, take an hour-long shower.” Phillip laughed. “Paint, smoke a shit ton of weed.”

“Oh, God, yeah.”

“Feel the sunlight on my skin again. Get a damn haircut. Run.”

“Have you ever read The Wild Boys by Burroughs?”

Phillip shook his head. “No.”

“Oh. Well, it’s about this militant group of boys, and they… they take over the world basically. They’re free to do drugs, run, feel the sun on their skin. Mass amounts of land belongs to them. All they do is love and live.”

“That sounds nice," Phillip hummed.

“I miss tea.”

“I miss caffeine.”

Georges laughed. “God. I miss everything. There is nothing about my old life that I don’t miss.”

“Except for geometry.”

“Except for geometry, yeah.” Georges swallowed hard. “I really hope my parents are okay. I really hope they aren’t… I hope they’re alright.”

“Same.” Phillip thought of his father, his poor, lonely father. “I really don’t… I don’t want them to give up. We’re gonna see them again, right?”

“Right.” Georges looked at Phillip in the dim light of the basement. “It’s only a matter of time until we see them again. I don’t want them to give up, though.”

“I don’t either. I wish I could… I wish I could tell them I’m still alive. I wish I could do something. Send some kind of message.”

“I wish I could kill the man upstairs.”

Phillip looked at Georges.

“I wish I could watch him die. I want him to die.”

“Me too.”

“What do you want to be when you grow up?” Georges asked.

“I want to be a chef. Go to culinary school in Manhattan, work in Hell’s Kitchen. Be one of those chefs that are widely known. What about you?”

“I don’t know.” Georges laughed. “Mechanics would be cool, attend a trade school, join a union, work on cars for the rest of my life. It seems like a cool job.”

“I barely know how to check the oil.”

“I’ll show you when we get out.” Georges smiled a bit. “I’ll show you how to change a tire, check your oil, and jumpstart your car. Those are the most important things you need to know.”

“I wanna play basketball so bad.”

“Me too. We should get all of our friends when we get out, play a game.”

Phillip nodded. “Yeah, that would be awesome.”

“Do you think our parents have given up?” Georges' voice was small.

“No. I don’t think they will until we’re home. I know my dad won’t. He cares about everyone, and he’s a workaholic, so… he’s not going to stop until we’re home, all of us.” Phillip looked around at the kids in the basement. “We’re going to get home.”

“This is probably a shitty thing to say, but I’m just… I’m glad you’re here. But I’m not glad you’re here, but I am glad I don’t have to do this alone, but I don’t want to do this at all. You know?”

Phillip nodded. “I know what you’re saying.”

“Yeah.” Georges huffed a sigh. “I’m ready to go home.”

“I am too.”

Georges looked over at Phillip, a small and hopeful smile on his lips. “Well, when we do, it’ll be together, right?”

Phillip nodded. “Right.”


	7. Chapter 7

It was always the hardest when a new kid came. So far, at five months, Phillip had only seen one, but the first kid, the one who had been there for two in a half years, he’d seen all of them. He didn’t talk about it though, he didn’t talk at all. The only person he let get close to him was this sweet girl with bright brown eyes and a curly black afro that Phillip assumed was once beautiful. It wasn’t now, but that wasn’t her fault.

Eighth-grader, tall and skinny, short black hair that stuck up. It was Peter Jefferson, the son of Phillip’s Dad’s friends. Sort of friends. They were neighbors. Most of these people were Phillip’s neighbors though. He was unconscious when he was first brought into the basement, chained to a support pole near Phillip. Georges was the only one who could reach the kid, even with intense straining, Phillip could barely come close, so Georges was the one who cleaned up the cut on Peter’s head best he could with what they had, which was nothing. He basically held the skin together in a hope that it would clot fast. If anyone had learned anything in The Basement, it was that there was no room for rivalries, no room for jealousy or anger. You had to watch out for one another. It was the only way to stay sane.

When he finally woke up, it took about half an hour for him to calm down. That was the same with everyone though. No one had any words of comfort, but the half-hour of screaming sobs generally helped a person calm down a bit. It also gave anyone else an opportunity to cry for a little bit, just to relieve some of that pressure.

“Peter, hey,” Phillip started.

Peter whipped his head over at Phillip, gasping. “Phillip?”

“Yeah, hey, I’m right here. Georges too.” Phillip couldn’t reach Peter, but he kept talking. “It’s okay, we’re here. It’s okay.”

“Oh, my God, oh my God!” Peter began trying to tug his hand out of the chains. “I’ve gotta, we have to get outta here!”

“Stop, Peter!”

Georges reached over and grabbed Peter’s arm. “Don’t do that. You’ll just hurt yourself, and then you’ll be in pain.”

Peter swallowed hard. “What does he want from us?”

“He’s going to take you upstairs tomorrow, and he’s going to make you take pictures. He’s going to post them online,” Phillip began to explain. “People are going to buy you for the afternoon, and they’re going to want sex.”

“Sex?”

“Do you know what sex is?”

“I’m fourteen, not stupid.”

Phillip nodded. “I don’t want to sugar coat it for you. That makes it worse. This is what’s going to happen. Those days will be your best days though.”

“How?” Peter looked scared.

“You will be taken upstairs, you will shower, drink water and eat a real meal, wear real clothes. You may even see the sun through a window or something. Then for a little while, it feels like someone almost cares about you, and that sounds sick now, but after a while…” Phillip trailed off, wondering if he had developed Stockholm syndrome. “I’m sorry, Peter.”

“They’ll come and get us though, right?”

“No, they won’t.” It was the kid who had been there the longest, Quincy. “It’s been two and a half years for me.”

“Two years,” a girl called out.

“One year and seven months,” another girl, Abigail Phillip thought, mentioned.

“Oh, God, oh, God!” Aaron began to hyperventilate. “What are we going to do?”

“Hopefully die eventually,” Georges muttered.

“How can you say that?”

“He’s been here for seven months, you get like that after that amount of time,” Phillip explained. “I’ve heard there were more of us.”

“One kid offed himself with the chain, wrapped it around his neck, and tugged real hard.” Abigail leaned forward, her eyes wide. “I think he’s out in the backyard now, but no one really knows.”

“Abby,” Phillip muttered.

“I’m gonna die in here,” Peter muttered.

“Maybe.” Phillip swallowed. “Are people still looking for us?”

“Everyone’s still looking for you. Phillip, your dad hasn’t shut up since you went missing. There have been vigils. People are donating money.” Peter clenched his fist. “They have to find us. You don’t know how much support they have.”

“Support ain’t nothing but empty promises.” Phillip swallowed hard and closed his eyes. “Fuck. Maybe I should off myself.”

“And leave me all alone? Fuck you.” Georges scooted over and nudged Phillip. “Besides, we are gonna get out.”

“And what if we don’t?”

“We will.”

“And what if we don’t?” Phillip yelled, a bit fed up with Georges’ positive attitude.

Georges was quiet. “That’s not an option, Phillip.”

Phillip leaned back against the wall and stopped talking. Peter and Georges talked for a while, Georges explaining what the deal was, trying to make things a bit better for Peter. It didn’t work too well, but at least he was calm enough to lay on his side and try to sleep.

When that happened, Georges went and sat over next to Phillip, taking his hand. “You know those Baja Blasts from Taco Bell?”

“Yeah.”

“That’s what I’m gonna have when we get out of here. And a burrito from there. They have these, like, quesaritos. They’re so good. Also those cinnamon twists.” He looked at Phillip. “What about you?”

“I don’t think we’re getting out of here,” Phillip mumbled softly.

“I think we are. What would you eat?”

Phillip began to cry. “I miss home.”

“Hey, don’t go there.” Georges took Phillip’s hand. “What would you eat?”

Phillip sniffled, wiping his cheeks. “Maybe… one of those mushroom burgers from Shake Shack. Uh, or some chicken tenders, with ranch, cooked by my dad.”

Georges rested his head on Phillip’s and sighed quietly. “Do you think we’re still gonna be friends when we get out of here?”

“I don’t know.”

“I think we are.”

“How are you always so positive?” Phillip asked.

“I believe the energy we put into the universe in the energy we get back. I’m going to get out of here. The universe needs to know that, so it knows to get me out. I don’t always believe it, but I try to say it out loud as much as possible, try to remember that I will get out, that I will be capable of seeing my parents again, doing the things I love to do. I’ve been making a mental list in my head, things I’m going to do when I get out.”

“Oh yeah? Let’s hear it.”

Georges smiled. “I’m gonna go to India, see a concert performed by an Indian artist. I also want to go to Vietnam. Then, then I’m gonna learn how to whittle, and do pottery. I’m gonna buy a guitar, and I’m gonna play guitar. I wanna hike in Denali in Alaska. I’m gonna ask the prettiest person in the world on a date.”

“Who’s that?”

“Don’t know yet. Figure I’ll find out.”

Phillip laughed a bit.

“I’m gonna sit in the sun more than I did before.” Georges' voice got softer. “I’m going to tell my parents I love them every day, call my grandmother more often. Visit Louis Armstrong’s grave.”

“That’s over in Queens.”

“Yeah, don’t know why I haven’t gone before.”

Phillip looked at Georges, then looked down. “I don’t know what I’d do.”

“Sure you do. Come on, spit something out. Anything.”

“I dunno.” Phillip thought for a moment. “Get a cat.”

“There we go. What else?”

“Learn how to use gouache. Learn how to bake. Read The Three Musketeers.” Phillip smiled. “Go on more bike rides with my girlfriend. Watch those stupid eighties films my dad is always trying to get me to watch.”

“Those are the best.” Georges slowly closed his eyes. “We’re gonna be okay, Phillip. I promise.”

“Okay. I’m gonna believe you, Georges, alright?”

“Alright. I won’t let you down. Soon we’re gonna, we’re gonna be home, co-writing a book on our experiences, talking to Ellen.”

Phillip laughed. “Okay, I can do that.”

Georges let out a huff of a sigh. “I know.”


	8. Chapter 8

The Man’s car didn’t have a sunroof, but Phillip could see the sky through the window from the bottom of the car. He counted the clouds that went by, trying to distract himself from the aching in his back. His hair was shorter. The Man had cut it at his shoulders. Phillip didn’t know why.

He was tired, ready to go to sleep. When they got back to the house, Phillip expected the man to strip him down and take him back down, but instead, Phillip was led to a couch, where he was sat down, and The Man sat next to him. Phillip looked at The Man. He was maybe thirty-five, blond, with a rugged face.

“You remind me of someone I once knew,” The Man started.

Phillip didn’t say anything.

“You’re beautiful like her.”

Phillip wondered if he was living his own fucked up version of Death In Venice.

“Don’t tell anyone downstairs, but you’re my favorite.” The Man reached out to touch Phillip’s face, and Phillip turned away, dodging the hand. The Man frowned, bringing his hand back. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

Phillip suppressed a laugh.

“I just want to know you more. I don’t like treating you like this. A perfect little doll you are. Brought in so much money.” The Man’s hand went to Phillip’s thigh. “What do you want?”

“What do I want?”

“Yeah, I want to give something to you. What do you want? Is it a special food? To watch a movie? I could bring one of your friends from downstairs up. What do you want?”

“I want to go home.” Phillip’s voice cracked as he said it.

“Now I can’t do that. Come on, work with me here.” The Man squeezed Phillip’s thigh a bit. “What do you want? I don’t want a pretty flower like you wilting.”

Phillip tried to stop himself from shaking.

“I can wait.” The Man sat back.

Phillip thought for a long time. Most of it was him trying to think to figure out what the fuck The Man was trying for. He decided to ask since he had nothing to lose. “Why are you doing this?”

“Because you’re my special little flower.” He smiled softly. “So many people like you. I want to know what I can do for you.”

“I want to see the sun.”

“The sun?”

Phillip nodded, smiling. “The sun. I want to see the sun.”

“Why so?”

“Because I miss it.”

The Man thought for a while. Then he stood up and pulled Phillip up. “Alright, come on now. You have to promise to be quiet though. Be quiet or I’ll beat you until you’re blue and you’ll never see the sun again.”

“Okay.” Phillip was too scared to fight back. He let the man take him out into the backyard. It was a dirty backyard, with shit all around it. Phillip didn’t care, he stepped onto the patchy grass and closed his eyes, taking a deep breath. The sun was warm on his face. The air smelt like New York, it smelt like trees.

“Is this all you wanted?”

Phillip nodded, fearing that even a word from his mouth could get him pulled back inside. He almost sobbed though when a bird flew past. He wanted to be the bird that was flying past. He wanted to be free again. He wanted to escape into a forest, feel a river against his skin. Feel cold water and a fresh breeze. For a moment, he wondered if he could make it if he started running. If he could hop the fence and just go. Never turn around. Just run and run and run.

“Alright, let’s go in.”

And just like that, the opportunity Phillip may not have even been presented with flew away with the bird.

Phillip started crying when they got back inside. He kept crying as he was stripped.

“What? What is it?” The Man asked. “What do you need?”

Phillip decided to take a bullet and risk getting the shit beat out of him. “Blankets. For everyone. We’re freezing. Please. Anything.”

“Blankets.” The Man hummed. “I’ll see what I can do, how about that?”

“Thank you.”

“Of course.” The Man led Alex downstairs and chained him up, then took a girl and left.

“Are you alright?” Georges asked as Phillip sat back down.

“I don’t know.” Phillip shook his head. “The weirdest thing happened.”

“What happened?”

“He…” Phillip shook his head, trying to remember exactly what happened. “He uh, he let me go outside. He asked me what… what I wanted.”

“He what?”

“I told him blankets. For all of us.” Phillip put his hands in his hair. “I’m so… I don’t know what happened. It was so weird. He didn’t try and hurt me, but he wasn’t… he called me his flower. It was so…”

“That’s weird.”

“I think we might get blankets though.” Phillip looked at Georges. “I don’t know, it’s what I asked for. I just, we’re all so cold. He asked me what I wanted, I tried to… I tried to think of what we all needed. He wouldn’t… I just needed something quick, something that would last for all of us. Maybe it was dumb.”

“No, if this comes through…” Georges laughed a bit. “I haven’t been warm in months.”

Phillip nodded. “I feel so sick. I think I’m gonna throw up.”

Georges started digging a hole in the dirt. “In here, in here.”

Phillip leaned over and threw up in the hole. Everyone tried to dig a hole when they needed to piss, vomit, or shit. It helped with the smell a little bit. Not as much as they would like, but a little bit.

He threw up all the food he had gotten before meeting whoever was buying. Georges buried it. Phillip leaned back and closed his eyes. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

“No, why are you sorry?”

“I don’t know. God, Georges, I’m losing my fucking mind!” Phillip tugged at his hair. “I’m fucking losing it. I need to fucking…” He shook his head. “Fuck!”

“Hey, look at me, look at me.” Georges took both of Phillip’s hands. “Deep breaths. What are you going to do when you get out? Tell me. What are you going to do when you get out?”

“I can’t, I’m not getting out!”

“No, you are. Tell me.”

Phillip took a long deep, squeezing Georges' hands. “I’m going to… I’m going to go biking with my girlfriend. We’re gonna go to this bakery we like. Then I’m gonna go home, and me and my dad, we’re gonna get takeout for dinner.”

“What kind of take out?”

“Italian.”

“What specifically?”

“Lasagna, bologna, all of that.”

“Alright, focus on that. Focus on me.” Georges ran his hand through Phillip’s hair. “You’re right here. You will not be here forever though. I am in front of you. I am real.” Georges took Phillip’s hand and touched it to the cold dirt floor. “This is real. This dirt right here is real. Things are going to change, Phillip. I promise you that with all I have in me, I promise you more than anything else, things are going to change.”


	9. Chapter 9

Three days after Phillip’s strange conversation with The Man, each child in the basement was given thin fleece blankets. A week after Phillip’s strange conversation, The Man dyed Phillip’s hair blond with peroxide. A month after that, a boy in the basement had a seizure and died. One week later, he was replaced by a girl who couldn’t have been older than thirteen.

The man had started taking Phillip up, once a week, just to stand outside for a few minutes. Phillip tried to think how to get out. The only issue with his plan was that it would require him to run, be just as strong as he was before all this, and he wasn’t. He didn’t know how much he weighed, but he assumed it was not much. His legs had never not touched before. He had always been a little bulky, with muscle and fat lining his body. He felt like a skeleton now.

“You look better as a blond,” The Man mumbled, touching Phillip’s hair. “Let’s go back inside.”

Phillip paused a second more, then turned and went back inside. “Why are you doing this?”

“Doing what, honey?” The man put his hand on Phillip’s cheek.

Phillip shook his head. “Never mind.”

“Do you want some food?”

“No.” That was a lie, but Phillip didn’t want to give in to this man.

“What are you so sad, little flower?”

“I want to go home.”

“Now, we both know that’s not true.”

Phillip closed his eyes for a second, then looked at The Man. “Can I go back down now?”

The Man placed his hand on Phillip’s hip, and for a second, Phillip thought he was about to be raped, but then The Man took Phillip back down into the basement and chained him up before leaving. Phillip wrapped his blanket around himself and swallowed hard, then looked to Georges, who was staring at him with intense eyes.

“I’m okay.”

“Are you sure?”

Phillip nodded.

“What does he even say to you?” Peter asked.

“Not much, really. He stares at me though. It’s weird and uncomfortable. I don’t… I almost wish he wouldn’t do it. But I like the fresh air.”

Georges nodded. “I think I’m supposed to go out today.”

Phillip looked up. “Are you gonna be okay?”

“Yeah, I think so. If you’re real sweet with the people, sometimes they’ll give you shit. I’ve got fruit, water, an open window, a donut once too.”

“Wow.” Peter paused. “I should try that.”

“I mean, I want to fucking kill them, but I’m not stupid. I know how this works, right?” Georges huffed a bit, hugging his blanket around his shoulders. “I had a book coming in the mail before I was taken. S by Doug Dorst.”

“What was it about?” Phillip asked.

“It was about these two college students who only communicated through annotations in a book. Supposedly, it’s really good.”

“What’s your favorite book?” Phillip asked.

“Probably Odd Thomas.”

“Tell us about it,” Peter requested.

At this point, everyone was so starved for entertainment, that the dullest of stories would’ve brought tears of joy to their eyes. Luckily, before all this, Georges had read like it was going out of style, so when he spoke of a book he liked, everyone hushed.

“Uh, it was about this guy, Odd, and he could see ghosts. He could also see these things called bodaks, which were omens of violent death. Uh, since he could see ghosts, he could help solve crimes. Then there was, there was this guy named Bob Robertson or something like that, he was surrounded by bodaks, and so Odd tries to figure out what the hell is going on with his girlfriend, Stormy.”

“What happened?” Peter pushed.

“I don’t want to spoil it.”

“Fuck that, spoil it,” someone gasped.

“Well, Robertson got shot, and they tried to blame it on Odd, but Odd didn’t let them, and then, then Odd realized he had to go to the mall and try and stop something bad from happening, because that’s what… he was getting a feeling that that was where it was going to happen, and all the bodaks were there. Then there was a shooter, and it was one of the police officers who worked on the force, so he had to take him down, and then he had to go and try and diffuse a bomb while being shot at, and then he diffuses the bomb and ends up in the hospital, and his girlfriend, Stormy, she died, and he had just been seeing her ghost.”

“She died?” Someone gasped.

“Yeah, she worked in the mall and got shot.”

“Why’d she get shot?”

“I don’t know, she just did.” Georges hummed.

“I wish we could watch a movie,” Peter admitted. “I want to like… I just want some kind of stimulation.”

“We can’t even like, read, or write down here.”

Phillip closed his eyes. “I’m so tired.”

“Did you manage to see the time?” Georges asked.

Phillip shook his head. “No, sorry.”

“It’s okay.”

Phillip laid down on the dirt floor, trying to get comfortable. “Georges, can you talk about the things you’re going to do when you get out?”

“Yeah, I can.” Georges reached forward and began to play with Phillip’s hair. “I’m gonna go see a movie, in a theatre. Catch a matinee on a Tuesday, middle of the week so I have the theatre to myself. I wanna see an action movie. I’ll take up two seats, chew my popcorn loudly, talk on my phone through commercials.”

“I once saw Spiderman like that,” Phillip mumbled.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” He yawned a bit. “Uh, it was like, a Wednesday, and it was over the summer, and I just, I had nothing better to do, so I went and I watched a movie. It was nice.”

Georges swallowed. “I wonder if we’re gonna recognize the world when we come back.”

“I don’t know,” Peter muttered, swallowing. “I miss my parents.”

Phillip squeezed his eyes shut, trying not to cry.

No one spoke after that. The basement fell quiet and people began to lie down, trying to sleep. Phillip pulled his blanket over his head and tried to stop himself from crying. All he could think about was his father though, his poor father. He knew that the man was probably a mess, and it was all Phillip could do not to break out into sobs.

He wanted to go home so bad. He wanted to hug his Dad and never let go. He wanted to feel loved again. He wanted to feel like someone really cared about him.

Phillip’s back began to seize, and Phillip rolled onto his stomach, trying to stop it. Since he’d been sleeping on a dirt floor for over half a year now, his back was in shit shape. He had never really had a good back anyway, and generally had monthly appointments with a chiropractor. His Dad had a shit back too though, so it definitely was genetic.

Phillip couldn’t sleep all through that night. He just couldn’t. His entire sleep cycle had been thrown off from how little he saw daylight, and his insomnia wasn’t helping anything. All Phillip could do was go through and think about what he could’ve done to not end up in this situation.

He could’ve fought harder, he could’ve screamed louder, he could’ve just stayed home that night. Phillip wondered every day what would have happened if he had done that. He wished he could have stayed home and then he would be home right now. Maybe. Or maybe The Man had been watching him for a long time. Maybe it wouldn’t have mattered what he had done, because he would’ve ended up right here anyway.

Phillip closed his eyes and tried to remember all the lyrics to Africa by Toto.


	10. Chapter 10

“Georges,” Phillip whispered quietly.

“Mm, yes?” Georges replied, stirring from his half-asleep state and pushing himself up. It’s not like the sleep he was getting felt good. You couldn’t sleep well in the basement if you tried.

“I need to tell you something. And I need you to be quiet about it.”

Georges nodded, scooting closer to Phillip and rubbing his eyes. “What is it?”

“I’m gonna try to escape today.”

“You’re going to what?”

“When he takes me into the backyard, I’m going to try and hop the fence.”

“Hold on, hold on…” Georges shook his head. “Have you really thought this through?”

“It’s the only thing I’ve thought about for the past month.” Phillip grabbed Georges' hand. “I have to try. There’s no other option.” He looked around at the kids in the basement. “I mean… What else is there to do? Someone has to try something, soon. We’re going to die down here. We are already dying down here.”

Georges bit his lip, then swallowed hard. “I need you to succeed, and I need you to be safe, and get help. Please.”

“I’m gonna get us out of here.” Phillip squeezed Georges’ hands. “I have to. I can’t… I can’t stay down here any longer. I’m going to try and get us out. We’re gonna get those stupid Baja blasts, and go on the bike rides, see our parents.”

“What if he catches you? What if he hurts you real bad?”

“Georges, I have nothing to lose. Nothing could make this situation worse.”

“You say that now, but I can think of about ten things he could do to you off the top of my head that would make the situation worse.” Georges looked around. “Are you really sure about this?”

“No.” Phillip sighed. “But I can’t… It’s time. I have to try. I have an opportunity, and I don’t know how much longer I’ll have said opportunity. For everyone’s sake, I have to give it a shot.”

Georges sighed, then nodded. “Okay. Please, please, be safe.”

“I will.” Phillip began to stretch out his legs, trying to warm them up for the day ahead. He knew The Man was going to take him out today, and Phillip had to be ready. He remembered every stretch he did in gym, basketball, yoga, whatever. He warmed up the best he could.

Two kids were taken somewhere and returned before The Man came down and got Phillip. He unchained Phillip from the wall and led him out of the basement and into the house.

The Man’s house wasn’t what you would expect. It was clean, well organized, decorated the way an Ikea display would be decorated. It was plain, average. Everything about The Man was average. It was almost disturbing, to equate his face with his actions.

Phillip ran his fingers along the wall, feeling the paint. He realized how dirty and unkept his nails were. If he got out, he decided to make getting a manicure a priority. Theo would do that with him. She always loved getting her nails done.

The back door opened, and Phillip was brought into the backyard. The fences were tall and wooden, with only one slat going sideways, right in the middle. Phillip would have to be strong, he’d have to be fast too. He began to steady his breathing, taking big inhales and slow exhales. It was cloudy out, cooler. Phillip wondered if fall was approaching. He didn’t know the days. He didn’t know the month. Time wasn’t real to him.

He looked back at The Man, and then back at the fence. Ten feet away. He began to wonder if he could make it. His hands started to shake. This could mean life or death for him. This could be the difference between a funeral and a celebration. Phillip tried to focus on his breathing and tried to calm himself down.

It was now or never.

Phillip took off running.

His body instantly ached, but his fight or flight response was kicking in, and a burst of adrenaline shot through him, and he picked up the pace. The fence would be the hardest part. He got to it and began to climb. His hand reached up, grabbed for the top, and then…

Phillip yelled out as he was tugged back down to the ground by his hair. Instantly, he was kicked in the head, and then his face stomped on. He fell out of it, blood coming out of his nose. The Man picked him up and dragged him back inside, aggressively throwing him to the floor. Phillip, who had regained enough consciousness to know that he should move away, began to scoot on the floor, groaning and trying to protect himself.

“You shouldn’t have done that,” The Man laughed, though there was something wicked in his voice. Phillip watched him pick up a gun. The Man smiled, fiddling with it. “You really shouldn’t have. I mean, honestly, little flower, what were you thinking?”

“I’m sorry,” Phillip croaked out.

The Man’s foot came down on Phillip’s chest and held him where he was on the ground. “No you aren’t.” He leaned down and pressed the barrel of the gun to Phillip’s head. “Have you ever been shot?”

Phillip was quiet.

“Answer me.”

“No, I haven’t.”

“Then you don’t know how much it hurts.” The Man moved the gun and shot Phillip in the hand. The bullet went right through and embedded itself in the floor. Phillip screamed, and The Man laughed. “Imagine how bad it would hurt in your jaw, knee, shoulder.”

“Please!” Phillip cried.

The Man took the gun and shot the floor next to Phillip’s head. Phillip’s left ear began to ring. The Man kneeled down and looked at Phillip, applying a lot of pressure to his chest. “I could kill you. I wouldn’t feel bad about it at all. I’ve killed children much younger than you. And I’ve killed them for a lot less than that.”

Phillip felt like he wanted to throw up.

“But you bring in too much money, so how about I kill two birds with one stone, hm?” The Man tugged a lock of Phillip's hair out of his head, scalping Phillip in the area, then played with it in his fingers while Phillip cried. “I could hurt you really, really bad, and then I could also get your Father to shut the fuck up about you on the news, huh?”

“Please,” Phillip begged. “I’m sorry. Please, I’ll do anything. I’ll let you fuck me, I won’t even put up a fight.”

“Fuck you?” The Man laughed, smacking the side of Phillip’s face. “I’d be lying if I said the idea hadn’t crossed my mind at one point. I bet you’d look so good, tied up, gag in your mouth so you don’t scream too loud. I’d love to see that.” The Man shook his head. “But that’s not what I want to do right now, little flower. See, when you do something wrong, you need to be punished, and I do need to get your Dad off my back. He’s making too much noise.”

Phillip choked back a sob. “What are you gonna do to me?”

“I’m gonna hurt you, little flower. I’m gonna hurt you real bad.”

The Man threw Phillip into the basement, not even walking him down the steps. Phillip’s head was now shaved, and bloody. His arm, which now lacked a good chunk of flesh, was bandaged, as well as his hand. He was bruised, bloody, and in so much pain. Two of his fingernails were gone, his back molar was dangerously loose. His left ear was still ringing, and he couldn’t hear out of it anymore.

“Oh, my God, Phillip.” Georges couldn’t keep his mouth shut as The Man chained Phillip back up.

Phillip spat out blood and laid down. “I’m sorry.”

“Are you okay?” Peter asked.

“I’m so sorry.” Phillip began to cry. “I tried. I’m so sorry.”

“Phillip, no, it’s okay.” Georges touched Phillip’s shoulder. “Are you okay?”

“Oh, God, I feel so-” Phillip threw up, then laid back down directly in it. “Fuck, I’m in so much pain.”

“Phillip, oh my God.”

“I just need to sleep.” Phillip started to cry. “I’m going to sleep.” He spat out more blood. “I’m sorry.”

Georges began to run his hand over the peach fuzz on Phillip’s hair. “Okay, go to sleep. It’s okay, just go to sleep. Just sleep, Phillip. It’s okay. Just sleep.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The second batch of chapters is up. Five more to go. How are you guys liking it so far?


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> today my ex girlfriend made multiple accounts on a social media site so she could harass me, tell me to kill myself, call me transphobic slurs, tell me that I was a terrible writer and that neither me nor my writing would ever amount to anything. So, in honor of that, I'm gonna post most of my writing.

John went to Phillip’s memorial service. If he wasn’t invited, he wouldn’t have gone, but Alex had come into his office four days ago, with red eyes and shaky hands, and had left the invitation on his desk without saying a word. It made John want to throw up.

But, he attended. He wore his best suit, which wasn’t the best suit. He tied his hair up modestly, brought a flower, and sat near the back of the pavilion. The memorial was held outside, a big picture of Phillip was up front. John studied it for a second. Phillip had a big smile, with white teeth and sparkling eyes. He looked like a happy kid. John’s heart broke.

“John.”

He looked over and saw Alex, standing there in a suit with red eyes. “Oh, God, Alex.” John stood up and took Alex’s hand, shaking it. “Hey, how are you?”

“Bad. I’m really bad.”

John felt like shit for asking. “I’m so sorry, Alex.”

Alex nodded, pressing his lips together. “I got a new job.”

John thought that was a bit odd to bring up at your son's funeral, but people grieve differently. “Oh?”

“Yeah, I’m a part of the legal team at Thorn.”

John nodded. “That’s good.”

Alex nodded. “Thank you for coming. It really does mean a lot.”

“Yeah, of course. What are you doing afterward?”

“You’re not seriously asking me on a date during my son's memorial, are you?” Alex looked defeated, but not mad.

“No, no, God no, oh, God, I’m so sorry. I just meant, I just… I don’t want you to be alone, and if you want company, or-”

“I’m eating dinner with my neighbors. My son dated their daughter, so we’re kind of close.” Alex shrugged. “How’s the case coming?”

“Do you still care?” John mused.

“Of course I do.” Alex frowned. “I care about other people’s children. I care about other people. I’m a defense lawyer for Christ’s sake.”

John nodded slowly. “Oh, yeah.” He paused, taking a breath. “Really, it’s not going great. I mean, we’re going through all these personal advertising sites, trying to find anyone who looks like a missing kid, but it’s just… the issue is that more often than not, the trafficker will cut their hair, starve them down. Most of them probably haven’t seen the sun in a while, so they’re probably paler than the pictures we have of them. Sex trafficking rings are so… it’s really difficult.”

“Well.” Alex swallowed hard. “Don’t give up. Justice will be brought to the children.”

“I won’t. I promise.”

“Make sure to put money in the donation box. It’s all going to Thorn.” Alex nodded to a clear box with a lock on it.

“Alright, I will.” John took Alex’s hand and squeezed it. “I’m sorry for your loss.”

“Thank you.”

Alex left and John sat back down. He noticed a girl and her parents up front, talking to Alex. The girl was crying, leaning against her mother. John looked down and swallowed hard. It was difficult for him to not take on all the blame for Phillip’s death. Working in child sex crimes, you had to work through that guilt a lot, but God, he was closer with Alex than he was with any of the other parents, and he just… he felt so bad. He really had wanted to find Phillip alive, and so far, all the kids who had gone missing, none of them had turned up dead, or at least that’s what John hoped.

But it almost made sense. Alex was being loud about this. The trafficker probably realized Phillip was a liability, killed him off to try and shut Alex up. So far, it wasn’t working though. Alex, if anything, had gotten louder.

John waited quietly. There were a lot of friends, but John noticed Alex didn’t seem to have any extended family, at least no one that looked like extended family. A Rabbi came though, hugged Alex very tightly.

The Rabbi was the first to speak. He talked of prayer, God, Phillip’s soul. Alex started crying when the Rabbi said that Phillip was up in the sky with God now. John felt sick to his stomach. He wanted to just… he wanted to leave. He didn’t even know why he came. He never came to these things, but he would’ve felt bad if he didn’t. Alex invited him.

When the Rabbi was done speaking, he bowed his head with the people who were there and prayed for both Alex and Phillip, and then it was Alex’s turn. Alex looked shaky, he had some crumpled paper in his hands. John frowned and looked down. He knew he was going to start to cry.

“Uh, hi.” Alex took a deep breath. “As all of you know, Phillip is… Phillip was my son. Uh, he was…” He shook his head. “He was amazing, really. I mean, that kid could do everything. He was an amazing artist, and a really good friend, a fantastic son. He was perfect. He did everything right.” Alex paused. “I just… he really was my pride and joy, he was my everything. For so long, it’s been just me and Phillip. I mean, I would attend law school with him strapped to my chest in a papoose. He was on my hip as I accepted my diploma. I didn’t really have any family, just, from a young age, I was alone, and then when I had Phillip-” Alex swallowed. “Shit, it was like my whole world had been turned upside down. It was wonderful. And now… he’s gone.” He stared down at the paper, then back up at the people. “I’ve been working with Thorn, trying to help other kids in his situation, trying to make sure his death is not in vain. I just… God, I really miss him. I’m never going to stop missing him. He was everything to me. He taught me so much. I just…” Alex's voice cracked and he stopped for a moment, wiping his eyes. “Thank you, for coming, everyone. It really does mean a lot to me that you’re here, giving support. Uh, yeah, I know it really would’ve meant a lot to Phillip.”

John really wanted to go somewhere else. His heart was breaking. He was crying. It hurt even more to watch Phillip’s girlfriend come on stage, try to speak, and then simply break down, being escorted off by her mother.

A few more people spoke, and then everyone stood up to mingle and talk to each other. John stepped out of the pavilion into the light rain, then lit up a cigarette. This whole situation made him want to throw up. He hated sex trafficking with such a passion. He wondered how many missing children were up on PornHub right now. If John knew anything about the site, it wouldn’t be taken down for months. John had seen that a million times before. Six-year-olds in court, asking corporate men in suits to take down videos of her being abused. It made John want to chew glass. He wasn’t generally angry, but oh, PornHub made him want to get violent.

John pulled out his phone and texted Maria, who was at work, asking her if there was anything new he should know, then put it away.

“Excuse me?”

John turned to see Phillip’s girlfriend, standing under the pavilion but looking at him. “Yes?”

“You were working on Phillip's case, right?”

John stepped closer, snuffing out his cigarette on the glass of his watch and shoving it in his pocket so he didn’t litter. “Yeah, I was.”

“Do you know if he was in pain when he died? Maybe that’s a silly question, but-”

“No, it’s not.” John did know the answer to that, which was most likely yes. But this girl looked so sad, so scared, he wasn’t going to tell her that. “From what evidence we’ve found, it seems like it was very quick.”

“Okay.”

“I’m so sorry.”

“It’s okay.”

“It’s not.” John looked around. “I don’t mean to bring this up, what’s your name?”

“Theo.”

“Theo.” He paused. “I don’t mean to bring this up, but you…” John sighed. “Are you in any self defense classes? Do you have any self defense training? You live in that neighborhood too.”

Theo nodded. “Yeah, and my mother has been driving me everywhere since Phillip was found…” She trailed off, then huffed. “Yeah.”

“Alright. I don’t want anyone else getting taken.”

“Do you think you’re going to find who did this?”

John decided lying wasn’t always bad. “I think we’re getting closer. This stuff, it’s really difficult to track down, but we have a lot of people working really hard, and a lot of eyes on this.”

“Okay. Thank you.”

“Of course.”

John stayed a bit longer, then found Alex, who was speaking with the rabbi. “Hey, I’ve gotta head out.”

“Duty calls,” Alex joked, though his tone was depressed and dull. “Thank you for coming.”

“Of course.” John paused, then pulled Alex into a tight hug. “I’m so sorry, Alex. This is not how I wanted this to end.”

“You do good by Phillip’s name, John.” Alex held onto John’s hands, looking up at him. “You find the man who did this, you make sure he spends his days in prison. You help those other kids.”

“I will.”

“Okay.” Alex sighed. “Thank you for coming.”

“Of course.” John leaned in and kissed Alex’s cheek. “I’ll see you soon, alright?”

Alex nodded. “Alright, bye.”

“Bye.” John walked away with the memorial, filled with sadness and rage. He wanted to find the man who did this, and more importantly, he wanted to find the children who were missing. John’s heart was breaking. He wanted them to be okay more than anything in the world.

John went back to work, and not to a bar like he originally planned. He spent the next twelve hours in his office, working on the case. Maria brought him food at one point, and he was grateful, but didn’t stop to talk. He just kept working. He had to.

For Phillip.


	12. Chapter 12

There were only so many dirty water hot dogs you could eat before you felt yourself begin to develop scurvy. John was at that point, his stomach screaming at him to eat a vegetable, and no, the relish he put on his hotdog earlier does _not_ count.

John was sitting in his office, trying to think of where to get dinner. Probably Thai food. All the cilantro and the garlic, it was a blood cleanser, and John needed it. John was scrolling through all the take out numbers he had, trying to find his favorite Thai food place when his phone buzzed. It was a text from Alex.

'Wanna get dinner and then get tanked?'

John laughed, texting back. 'Fuck yeah. Your place?'

'Yours. I'm trying to get out of the house. I'll get the liquor and my own meal. I can be there in thirty.'

'Great, see you then.'

John got up and clocked out, then found a Thai place on his way home, ordering curry, and pad see ew since he was fucking starved. He got to his apartment in twenty-five minutes, which gave him just enough time to clean up a bit before Alex knocked. In one hand, he was holding a bag that contained vodka and margarita mix, in the other, Indian take out. John invited him in, chuckling.

"I don't have a blender, you know," he pointed out.

"Why would we need a blender?" Alex asked.

"Margarita mix?"

"Oh, no, I was just originally gonna buy straight vodka, but I figured that looked pathetic, so I bought the mix. Also, I figured if you didn't drink straight vodka, you could mix it with this."

"Alex." John was laughing a bit. "I work in the _child sex crimes_ department, of course, I drink straight vodka."

"Yeah, in hindsight, it was stupid." Alex smiled. "Oh well."

"Oh well." John sat down, opening up his food. "I'm starved. The only thing I've eaten today was a hotdog at nine in the morning."

"I think if I ate a New York hot dog that early, I would die."

"It takes practice, but you get used to it." John began to eat, smiling. "What prompted you to text me?"

"Pft, I was lonely." Alex took a bite of his food. "I find every excuse to leave the house nowadays. I'd rather be anywhere else, you know? It's just... miserable."

"Are you gonna sell it?"

"No." Alex huffed a sigh. "I mean, it's been two months since he... I just, I need more time. I'm working on it. There are just certain things I can't do yet."

"I have a second bedroom," John offered. "Just, I know what it's like, not wanting to go home. You can always stay with me. I'll clear out a drawer."

Alex smiled. "That's real sweet, John. If I'm drunk enough."

"Ha!" John took a large bite of his food. "What have you been doing?"

"Oh, working with Thorn. Being a part of their legal team, it's actually really interesting. It's a lot of contracts, a bit different from being a defense lawyer, but I like it."

"Don't you miss being a defense lawyer?"

"Yes and no. I mean, I miss the meat of it, but... I feel like I'm really doing something good right now. I mean, before all this happened, I probably would've blown my brains out, but just, perspective and all that."

"Why a lawyer in the first place?"

"Uh, well, I needed to make money, and I liked a challenge. I'm an immigrant, you know, from the Caribbean. I felt like I couldn't just..." Alex laughed. "I wanted to be a writer, at first. But I just, I knew I really needed to prove myself to this country. This was in the Clinton era, so like, you could be patriotic and like this country. Not that Clinton was perfect by any means, like you know, all the sexual assault, cheating on his wife, probably some war crimes. Anyway, I chose a lawyer, because New York had a good law school. It was either that or a doctor, and I faint at the sight of blood."

"Wow."

"I know, it's pretty pathetic." He chuckled. "Uh, then, like, the summer before my first year of law school, my son was born."

"You went to law school with a baby?"

"Oh, yeah. Phillip and I learned about law together. He technically is a law school graduate, went to most of the classes. Some kids were read Doctor Suess, he was read textbooks and laws." Alex smiled. "But yeah, and then there came a time where I had to pick what type of law I wanted, and I decided defense."

"Why?"

"Well, I just..." Alex shrugged. "I wanted to defend the people. Full offense to cops, but have you seen how many wrongfully accused there have been? You have no idea how many sex workers I saved from the slammer."

"Yeah, I don't agree with everything about the legal system, I really don't. But... I mean, I think I work in an important division."

"You do." Alex took a bite of his food. "Why child sex crimes? Oddly specific, and... dark. I mean, I know no one who would _choose_ to work in that kind of environment. So why did you?"

"It's just..." John took a bite of his food, trying to think. "I'm actually not drunk enough for this." He stood up and grabbed two shot glasses from his cabinet, then sat back down. He poured himself a shot, then downed it. "Child sex crimes. Why did I choose child sex crimes?"

Alex nodded, downing his own shot.

"Probably because there was no child sex crimes department in my town, and then when my football coach cornered me in the locker room at sixteen and made me strip down so he could look at me and touch himself, there was no one who really helped."

Alex paused, swallowing. "Shit."

"Yeah. I didn't even tell anyone, I was so scared. He did it usually every day, told me he'd tell everyone on the team I was gay if I said anything, which was a bad deal in my town, especially in the nineties. Only came out because one of the other male teachers walked in on it."

"What happened?"

"Cops were called, all that shit. Rumors spread that I was actually sleeping with the coach, which wasn't good. I had to switch high schools, it was bad. The cops didn't even believe me, the one assigned to my case, he had me in the interrogation room for hours, trying to get me to think that I had slept with the coach willingly."

"Jesus, why?"

"I don't know. He was really prejudiced, and he sees a brown kid who was assaulted by his white coach, wants to change up the story, make me look like less of the victim." John took another shot, then ate some food. "It was a shit situation. I couldn't even go home, look my father in the eye. I stayed with a few friends I had, the few that understood. I was lucky enough to have a friend with gay parents, so they were pretty progressive for the nineties, and they also believed me."

"Wow."

"Yeah. And then I decided I didn't want any other kid going through what I went through." John swallowed. "I just, no one deserves that. So, I went through the academy, worked my way here."

"Why New York?"

"I was so fucking sick of Republicans."

Alex laughed. "Yeah, God. I once had to go to Indiana for this case, it was really complicated, and I swear, people were flying Trump flags right under American flags. It was absolutely horrid."

"Yeah." John took a bite of his food.

"What were you gonna do before you wanted to be a detective?"

"Uh, I was gonna go into the Marines, actually. I came from a poor family, we lived in a trailer park, shopped with food stamps. My father was a real good man, he was just an alcoholic, and you know, addiction, it really can fuck someone up. Anyway, I was gonna go into the Marines, and the military would pay for my college."

"What did you want to go to college for?"

"I wanted to be an engineer. Startup my own mechanics shop after that, build my own cars, fix up junkers, also just work on regular cars."

"That sounds nice."

"Yeah. But I'm glad I'm doing what I do. This job, it's not always rewarding, especially when you see cops being fucking stupid and killing people, but, man..." John shook his head. "Ain't nothing like the smile kids get when they see their parents again, or the relief when their abuser gets locked up."

Alex nodded.

"I'm sorry I didn't find Phillip sooner."

"It's not your fault." Alex let out a long sigh. "God, maybe this makes me sound like an asshole, but I really just don't want to talk about him right now. I feel like it's all people ever talk about with me anymore, and all it does is make me sad."

"I get that."

Alex poured himself another shot and downed it. "You been watching anything good?"

"The Great, on Hulu."

"Oh, yeah, I binged that in a night." Alex laughed. "It was really good. I really liked it. Did you?"

"Besides the fact that it was completely inaccurate-"

"It was not!"

"It was so!" John laughed. "No, no, first of all, Peter didn't even _have_ sex! Like, he never fucked Catherine, ever. Second of all, Catherine's relationship with Peter's aunt was way more important, and Catherine not only converted to Russian Orthodoxy, and learned Russian, but she had to change her name and leave behind every bit of France. Peter was fucking insane, and obsessed with Prussia, and he also tortured rats in his free time. Catherine had an affair with the general of the army, not some little toy that Peter gave to her. Also, the vaccination scene, not even _close_ to accurate. That's not how it happened."

"Okay nerd." Alex smiled. "You fall into a Wikipedia hole or something?"

"No, I took European history in high school, and I happened to like Catherine very much. She was way more badass than the show makes her out to be."

"Oh yeah?"

"Yeah." John ate some food. "What about you? Any other binges?"

"Uh, Killing Eve."

"Haven't seen it."

"You should, it's really good." Alex leaned back. "I dunno, life has just been really boring."

"God, rub it in," John snickered.

"Yeah, sorry." Alex sighed. "Also, my dating life is _crap_. I mean, it was always crap, but it's even more crap now."

"Tell me about it. No one wants to date a child sex crimes detective. Also, I work, all the time."

"Me too." Alex laughed. "I never really dated anyone anyway. I had my child in my early twenties, and now, in my late thirties, I just... I don't know, I feel like all my opportunities passed me by. You know?"

"Yeah. I think my last girlfriend was in... third grade?" John laughed.

"God, college for me. Phillip's mom. She was a sweet thing."

"Where's she now?"

"Somewhere upstate. We keep in touch." Alex shrugged. "Do you wanna watch Netflix or something?"

"Yeah, I do."

The two of them moved to the couch and spent the rest of the night there. Around three, John woke up to the 'Are you still watching?' screen. He turned off his TV and went back to sleep on the couch, but not before glancing at Alex's sleeping face and smiling.


	13. Chapter 13

At this point in his life, John had just kind of accepted that his job was dark and depressing. You didn’t exactly go into the child sex crimes division with the idea that it was gonna be fun, and John didn’t. It had shocked him though, in the beginning, just how dark it was. He wasn’t numb to it now, it still broke his heart, and still brought up emotions for him, but he could get through it without crying.

Most people would’ve been nauseous, searching for missing kids in the sex advertisements on personal posting sites, but John wasn’t. He did flag ads that looked suspicious, sent them to other sections of the entire sex crimes division, but he was looking for specific people. 

“Hey, whatcha doin’?” Maria asked, coming into his office.

“Looking for children being sold for sex. What about you?”

“Nothing.” She found a chair and sat down next to John. “Why did we pick such depressing careers?”

“The underlying element of helping people,” John answered, not taking his eyes off of his computer. 

“Yeah.” Maria began to look through the pictures of the missing kids. 

“Hey, what about her?” John started, clicking on an ad. The girl looked young, with big eyes and frizzy hair. Couldn’t have been older than sixteen.

“Hm.” Maria creased her eyebrows.

John took the photos from her and found a picture of a girl, Abigail, who looked similar. He held it up to the computer screen, humming. “She looks a little different, but she…” John shook his head. “They look similar, right? I mean, if the Abigail in the original picture didn’t see the sun or eat enough for two years, right?”

“Should we call in her parents? Try to identify her?”

“Yeah. Could you?” John handed Maria Abigail’s file. “I’m gonna see if I can buy some of her time.”

“Alright.” Maria got up and left, and John clicked on contact. Such a common misconception was that sex trafficking took place on the dark web. It was an absolute lie. It was everywhere. PornHub and Craigslist were where John found most of it. 

John leaned back in his chair, looking at the girl on his computer, wondering how much pain she had been in in those photos. Her face was just barely in it, peering downward, but she just… John couldn’t shake the feeling that this was her. He just couldn’t. This was the girl that he had been looking for for two years. She was one of the first taken, before John had even made the connection with the other kids. She was thirteen, almost fourteen, when she went missing. John was younger, newer, didn’t know what he knew now.

“John.” Maria broke John out of his trance about ten minutes later.

“Yeah?”

“Parents here.”

“That was quick,” John muttered.

“Yeah, well, I told them you might’ve found their child, so, I don’t think they really dawdled.” Maria stepped aside and let Abigail’s parents in.

“You found her?” Abigail’s mother asked.

“Maybe. I brought you here because I was wondering if you could identify her.”

“Yes, of course,” her father gasped.

“Now, before I show you these pictures, I need you to know that if this is her, it is entirely confirmed that this is sex trafficking.”

“Okay.” Her mother nodded, biting her lip.

John turned the computer and instantly, both of Abigail’s parents began to cry.

“That’s her. That’s my baby.” Abigail’s mother reached out and touched the screen. “My baby girl. That’s my baby girl. Oh, oh my God. My baby girl.”

Hope swelled in John’s chest. “Alright, are you sure?”

Abigail’s father nodded. “I would recognize that face anywhere.”

“Alright.” John stood up, coming to the other side of his desk. “I’ve contacted the seller, asked him to give me a few hours of Abigail’s time. This is going to be a sting operation. We can’t arrest him at the handoff, because we need to know where he operates from. We’ve gotta have someone follow him back to where he keeps the kids. This means I need you guys to be here at the station as this goes down. I also need you both to not say a single word about this to anyone. At all. Don’t tell your relatives, your other children, your friends, no one. Not a damn soul. No social media, no email. Don’t even talk about it with each other. This conversation never happened, and according to you, your daughter is still missing with no hope of finding her.”

Abigail’s mother nodded. 

“The exchange will go down as soon as we can get everything ready. We’re gonna have our best undercover detective on the case. Someone I trust with my life. He’ll bring her back here, and I’ll be with you guys until we have a direct location of this guy's house, upon which I will leave. Now, until we give you guys the okay, you cannot tell anyone she’s back with you, you cannot leave the station. You cannot call anyone, speak to anyone. Nothing. Absolutely nothing. Do not talk about this until I have told you that you can. We are pretty sure the guy who took her took a lot of other kids, and if you mention you have your daughter back to the wrong person, this guy could kill all the kids and clear out, and then the whole operation is ruined. Can you do this?”

“Yes, we can.” Abigail’s father held her mother closely. “We just want our daughter back.”

“With your help, a whole lot of other people could have their children back. A whole lot of other people could be happy again.”

“It’s all we want.”

John nodded, then walked back over to his side of the desk, refreshing his email and nodding at the sight of a response from the Craigslist ad. “You two should go home, pack an overnight bag, stay at the quality inn. Put your other kids with a sitter. Be close, out of the public, out of temptation. Don’t eat out, just order delivery. Stay in that hotel room and speak to no one but each other.”

“When will this all go down?”

“I’m gonna set it up for tomorrow. It’ll give us time to get SWAT ready, prepare the operation, brief the detective.” John ran his hand through his hair. “Shit, I mean, the first kid that went missing, that was almost three years ago, and now…” His eyes began to tear up. “Shit, I’m sorry, I just, this is the first break we’ve gotten in so long.”

“You really think we could get our daughter back?”

“I do.” John got up. “We’re gonna get you the money to stay at the hotel, alright? And then I’m gonna-” He shook his head. “Wow, sorry, I’m so, okay. Just wait in here.” John walked out of his office, down the hall to his boss’ office. “Hey, hey, I just got a real big break in the missing kids' case. I need to get approval for undercover, I need-”

“Wait, what? Hold on.” George stood up. “Alright, slow down. What’s going on?”

“I just found a missing child on Craigslist, I set up a deal for tomorrow. This could be big. This could be everyone.”

George nodded. “Okay, what do you need?”

“Swat team, I need an undercover detective, three thousand dollars. I don’t think we should arrest this guy at the exchange, we should follow him back to where he lives, raid his house. See if we can find any other kids or any information to where they might be.” John sat down. We could also find communication with people who buy kids regularly in trafficking. We could not only take down a trafficker but those who participate. We could…” John shook his head. “I’m so fucking frazzled right now, oh my God. But we need to just-”

“Okay, okay, I’ll get everything approved, you will work with SWAT, the undercover detective, tell them your plan. I’ll give you full authority. But John, you are sure, right?”

“I am.” John took a deep breath. “I’d be willing to bet my career on it. I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life.”

“I trust you.” George sat back down, picking up the phone. “Hey, I’m gonna need SWAT.”


	14. Chapter 14

John was watching the screen on the TV, watching the undercover detective make the exchange with the man. Abigail’s parents were right next to him. He watched the detective shake hands with the man, watched them discreetly put Abigail in the back of the car. Then, the detective aimed his chest at the license plate of the car. Facial recognition was already trying to find out who he was. They watched the detective drive back to the station as John stayed caught up with who was following the man. They had about forty different cars driving in the area, changing off constantly so the man never got spooked.

“We got a match!” The woman who was scanning through facial recognition yelled. “Scott Peterson. Lives in two-zero-three-four, sixty-eighth street, East Flatbush.”

John picked up his radio. “I want two cars within eyesight of two-zero-three-four, sixty-eighth street, East Flatbush. We are looking for a Scott Peterson. Do not move on him if seen. I repeat, do not move on him.”

“Copy. Current location is in Brownsville, pulled through a drive-through to get food.”

“Stay on his ass like tighty-whities. I don’t want to hear that he’s out of sight.”

“Copy.”

John looked back to the screen, just as the detective’s car pulled into the back alley of the precinct. “You stay here,” he directed at the parents. He grabbed a blanket and went into the alley. The detective was already out of the car, waiting for John. “Where is she?”

“Back seat.”

“Did you say anything to her?”

“No, detective.”

“Alright.” John went to the backseat of the car and opened it. There was a girl, frizzy black hair and scared, wide eyes. John wrapped the blanket around her like a cape, pulling it over her head, and walked inside, the other detective blocking them from view.

John could feel the girl shaking under his arm. He wanted to bring her straight to her parents, but he had to confirm it was her first. They stopped in the hallway, and John pushed the blanket back from her head so he could see her face.

“My name is detective John Laurens, I-”

“I’ve been kidnapped, I’ve been missing for over a year, please, you have to-”

“I know, I know.” John put steady hands on her shoulders. “I know. It’s okay. It’s okay.”

“I don’t want to go back,” she gasped, tears welling up in her big brown eyes.

“You won’t, I promise. It’s over. It’s all over.”

Abigail broke down.

John had to grab her, steady her, and slowly guide her to the ground as she cried. He didn’t want to touch her, hug her, make her uncomfortable, so he stuck with a few gentle pats on her shoulder. “Honey, I know this is a lot, but I really need to ask you a few questions.”

“Okay, okay.” She wiped her eyes. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologize, don’t apologize. I understand. I just need to confirm, you are Abigail Pritchett? Yes?”

She nodded. “Yes.”

“Alright.” John helped her up. “I will need to ask you more, take a statement and everything, but I’m not going to do that right now. Right now, I have a few people who really want to see you.” He opened a door, and smiled, letting her in.

“Mom? Dad?” 

John stayed out in the hallway, giving them their privacy. He didn’t want to intrude. He didn’t know what they all must be feeling, but he was certain that those feelings didn’t need him in the background.

“We’re in position, Peterson is in the house. I repeat, Peterson is in the house.”

John picked up his radio. “I’ll be there in ten. Have SWAT ready, all detectives and police, gear up.” He grabbed a bullet-proof vest from the supply room and ran out, getting into his car and driving about a block from the location. He found the head of SWAT quickly, who had set up in front of a house in unmarked cars, just around the corner from Peterson. “Hey, what’s going on?”

“We’re ready to move in on your signal. I have snipers on the roof of surrounding houses, this entire neighborhood is blocked off. No one goes in and out. We’ve got gunmen in his backyard.”

“Shoot to disable, not to kill. I want him alive.” John went on his radio. “Now, when we arrest him, get into his house, everything that looks like evidence? It is evidence. Even shit that doesn’t look like evidence. I want forensics to be getting overtime pay. I want everything you can grab. Search every room, every closet, for someone else. Look for any evidence that there are other people in the house, and look for other people. Whatever you do, do not, I repeat, do  _ not  _ kill Peterson. I want him alive and well.”

“We’re ready to move when you are,” the SWAT head told John.

“Can we get word on his current location?”

“Livingroom,” someone on the radio said.

“Alright, I want one plainclothes officer with me. We’re gonna see if we can make this as painless as possible.” John took off his vest, throwing it in the car as another officer joined him. “We’re just gonna knock, ask to speak with Scott Peterson, then arrest him. If he puts up a struggle, then we taze him. If he runs, we have snipers on the backyard, but we still gotta follow him in case he has something in his house. Tunnels and shit.”

“If he’s armed?”

“Disable, do not kill. If he dies, I will personally see to it that the trigger man is fired.” John tied back his hair. “Okay, we’re doing this now. We don’t have that much longer until he leaves again to get the girl.”

John and the other officer walked up to the house. John had his gun in the back of his pants, cuffs in his pocket. He was ready for anything.

The officer knocked on the door, but John stood in front. They waited a moment, and then the man opened it, smiling. John had never wanted to kill someone more in his entire life. He smiled back though, gritting his teeth.

“Yes?” Peterson asked. “How can I help you?”

“Scott Peterson?” John confirmed. 

“That’s me.”

“Well, I have some wonderful news.” John grabbed the man’s arm, twisting it hard so the man had no choice but to turn around. “You’re under arrest.”

“What? What for?” Peterson gasped. “Hey, I have rights!”

“You’re right, you do,” John nodded, cuffing him. “You’re under arrest for kidnapping, child neglect, sexual trafficking, sexual trafficking of a minor, sexual abuse of a minor, kidnapping of a minor, physical abuse, physical abuse of a minor, being in ownership of child porn, putting child porn up on the internet, solicitation, and solicitation of a minor. You have the right to be silent, anything you say can and will be held against you in a court of law. You have the right to an attorney. If you do not have access to an attorney, one will be provided to you by the state of New York.” He pulled out his radio. “Suspect is in custody, stand down. I repeat, stand down.”

“I can take him,” the plainclothes officer offered.

“I know,” John nodded, leading Peterson down to where a squad car pulled up. He pushed the man into the car and slammed it without making sure that the man was comfortable. “Put him in his own holding cell, I want a guard at his door twenty-four-seven,” he directed to the officer in the passenger seat. “If anything happens to him, you will have me to answer to.”

“Got it, detective.”

“Alright!” John announced. “We are now searching the house! Any evidence you find, you bag. No evidence is too small! I want this house close to packed up! IT, get on his computers, print out everything. Every goddamn piece of information. I want to know what email chains he participated in two-thousand-nine by the time you’re done! Someone get started on excavating the backyard!” John got gloves from forensics and entered the house with everyone else.

For a sex trafficker, his house was actually quite clean. John started instantly in the bedroom, bagging up the sheets and handing them right off to forensics. He directed everything, shouted orders, did not stop until the house was beginning to look almost bare.

“Any evidence of other life?” John asked an officer.

“No, nothing. No excess of plates or forks, a normal amount of food, no clothes. Nothing is bought in bulk.”

“Pull his credit card statements, I want to know everything he’s been buying. Tampons in the bathroom? Pads? Anything?”

“No, nothing. We spoke to neighbors, said they’ve never seen or heard anything.”

John shook his head. “That’s not right.”

“What do you mean?”

“Something in my gut, it’s just… That’s not right.”

“I’m gonna start to clear my men out, but feel free to walk through the house.”

John nodded, walking out of the kitchen and into the living room. He messed with cabinets, couches, rugs. He went slowly up the stairs, looking through closets, bedrooms, running his hands along the walls, and trying to feel for any kind of divot, listening for anything. He couldn’t find anything though. Nothing. 

John sighed defeatedly and walked downstairs. It was only when he began to make his way down the hallway did he notice something. The floor was quiet, quiet, and then it creaked. Loudly. People didn’t notice or care earlier most likely because it was loud, and there was a lot going on. They were walking fast. John’s entire body tensed though, looking down at the section of flooring. He walked across it, trying to figure out exactly how far it creaked. At one point, his food was split by the border, and leaning forward was quiet, but leaning on his heel was creaky.

He got on his hands and knees, staring intensely at the floor, trying to find any inconsistency. He knocked, he tapped, and he listened. He couldn’t hear anything through it, but he didn’t let that sway him. He went all around, looking, then again, and again. He was about to ask for a hammer to break the damn thing open, but then he saw it. Two small divots, invisible to an inexperienced eye.

John got on his knees in front of the divots and attempted to lift it. It was heavy, took a couple of tries, but then he cracked it, got his hands under it so it would stay open.

The pure smell that hit him made him gag and throw up in his mouth. It wasn’t rotting flesh, but it was damn near close. It smells like shit, urine, vomit, dirt, rot. It was intolerable. John coughed, trying not to vomit, and then he heard something that made his entire body stop.

“Hello?”

John threw open the door, climbing into the darkness. He couldn’t see anything, but he could hear breathing and a lot of it. He pulled out his flashlight, and his vision was filled with the site of kids, at least fifteen, maybe more. All of them dirty and chained up. They were emaciated, tired, and scared. John could barely speak for a moment. He couldn’t even process what he was looking at. So many children, so many, down here, alone, in what smelled like a sewer. 

John’s head began to spin, and he had to lean back on the latter to steady himself. 

From the darkness, there was a voice, soft, hoarse, and quiet. “Help us.”


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Last chapter. I would just like to say that Thorn is a very real organization that helps end human trafficking. Not only would I suggest checking out their website, but also buying a tee shirt or hoodie from them to support their organization. This is a very real issue, all over the world, and is a form of modern-day slavery. Thorn.org is the website, please go check it out, donate, buy a hoodie, and spread the word.

Doctors and paramedics came en masse to the precinct. The kids showered in the precinct locker rooms then were quickly hooked up with IV’s, tested for STDs, and treated for minor injuries. Officers were getting food orders from kids, paying for meals, people were crying. The kids were crying. They couldn’t stop crying. They kept thanking everyone they saw, they were just so grateful.

They were all given grey sweatpants and hoodies, as well as blankets. John got the hot water maker so kids could get tea, and he always got every package of water bottles he could find. Upon request, all the kids were moved up to the roof so they could see the sun. Press was turned away instantly. Before anyone worried about which kid was who, they got the kids comfortable.

There were fewer kids recovered than there were missing, and John knew that would happen, but it still hurt his heart. As a table was getting set up for John to speak to and identify each kid, he managed to sneak a moment to call Alex.

“Hey, babe.”

John smiled. “Hey, Lex.”

“You alright?”

“I’m more than alright. We found them. We found the kids.”

“The ones from Brownsville?”

“Yeah. Oh my God, they’re here. Oh my God, I can’t even process it. I mean, oh my God. We’re trying to call as many parents of the unconfirmed as possible. We don’t even know who is who, but right now they’re up on the roof, just watching the sun, breathing in the fresh air. All the officers ordered them food, doctors hooked them up with IVs, we’ve got pillows and blankets for them. I just, I’m so happy.”

“Oh, God, John, that’s amazing. Look, I’d love to talk more, but I’m kind of in a meeting.”

“Oh, yeah, for that Philly thing, right?”

“Yeah, but I’ll tell them what you just told me. God, that’s great. I really am happy.”

John swallowed. “Hey, you’ll be home tomorrow, right?”

“Yeah, I will.”

“Alright, I’ll order us something. Thai?”

“Yeah, that works.”

John smiled. “I love you.”

“I love you too. Make sure Scooby gets a walk tonight. I bet he’s super restless.”

“I will, don’t worry. Alright, bye, hun.”

“Bye, sugar.”

John smiled, hanging up. He and Alex had been seeing each other kind of since that first night Alex came over for dinner after the memorial. At first, it was super casual, very down low, with no labels, but a year and a half into the relationship, John had moved into Alex’s place, and they had gotten a dog together. John really liked Alex. More than he had ever liked anyone. Both of them had their own traumas, but they never took it out on the other and were always there. John hoped to marry Alex someday, and he was pretty sure Alex held the same sentiments.

“John,” Maria smiled, touching his arm.

“Hm? Yeah?”

“Uh, everything’s set up.”

“Okay, will you be ready to call parents at my order?”

“Phone’s set up and everything.” She pulled John into a hug. “I knew you’d find them.”

John smiled, hugging her back. “Thank you, Mars. Thank you so much. You’ve done so much for me.”

“Alright, let’s do this.”

John stood in front of the kids, waving his arms a bit. “Hello! If I can have your attention for just a moment.” He smiled as they turned their heads. “I’m detective John Laurens, I was assigned your case. Now, I’m going to talk to you all, one by one, right here at this table, and you’re going to tell me your name, and your age best you can. My associate Maria will contact your parents, and after medical evaluation, you will either be sent to the hospital or home. When we are done getting your information, you will then move inside, where you will receive a medical evaluation and wait for your parents. Is that understood?”

A wave of nods greeted him.

“Alright.” John smiled at a girl who couldn’t have been older than twelve. “Let’s start with you.”

Figuring out which kid was which was amazing to John. Maria called their parents, they were returned to their families. The number of children on the roof waned until there were two left. One of them let the other go, so John sat down across from the boy, smiling.

“What’s your name?”

“Georges de Lafayette.”

“Lafayette and Hercules!” John called out to Maria.

“On it,” Maria smiled, finding their numbers.

“Age?”

“Eighteen? I think?”

John checked Georges’ birth records. “Seventeen, eighteen in a few weeks.”

Georges nodded. “Oh.”

“Were you at any time sold for sex?”

“Yes.”

“Was your period of disappearance spent entirely in that man’s basement?”

“Yes.”

“Would you be willing to identify people who participated in this? Such as clients?”

Georges was quiet.

“You can say no. A few other kids have said yes, so you don’t have to say yes too. It’s entirely your choice.”

“Can I think about it?”

“Yes, you can. I will be in contact with you and your family to get a full statement, this is just a bit of groundwork so I don’t have to keep you here when you probably want to see your family. Again, though, it’s okay if you say no, or if you say yes and change your mind. I don’t want you to do anything you don’t want to do.”

Georges swallowed hard and nodded.

“Alright, I’m going to move you on to the medical evaluation.”

“Parents should be here in ten,” Maria stated.

“Mars, can you show him where he needs to go? I can handle the last one myself,” John smiled.

“Yeah, no problem.” Maria stood up and walked over to Georges, patting his shoulder. “Come, let’s get you all fixed up, yeah?”

He nodded and followed Maria off the roof.

John stood up and waved to the last kid. “Hey, kiddo, your turn.”

The kid, who had been staring out over the city, jumped a bit at the sound of John’s voice, but then got up and sat down across from him. He was pale, gauntly skinny, with a shaved head. His eyes seemed to almost bulge out from how skinny he was. John knew he was one of the kids who had been there longer.

“Hey. Are you thirsty?” John got up and went to a cooler, pulling out a water bottle. “Here, drink up.”

“I’m okay.” The kid’s voice was quiet.

John pushed the water bottle towards him and nodded. “Alright, but just keep it with you, in case. You never know.” He chucked a bit, then grabbed his pen and clipboard. “Alright, name?”

“Phillip Hamilton.”

“Okay, and what’s your-” John stopped, then looked up at the kid. “I’m sorry, did you say Phillip Hamilton?”

Phillip nodded.

“Like, _Phillip_ Hamilton? Alexander Hamilton’s son? Dating Theo Burr? Artist? Was a freshman? Played basketball?”

Phillip nodded again. “Uh, yeah.”

“Oh my God.” John stood up, stepping back a bit. “Oh my God. You’re dead.”

Phillip looked down at himself, then back up at John. “I don’t think so, but maybe.”

“No, no, you…” John shook his head. “Oh my God. I went to your funeral.”

“Was it any good?”

“No.”

“Dammit.”

“Oh, God, your father.”

Phillip’s eyes widened a bit. “What about my father?”

“He thinks you're dead.”

“That’s on him.”

John gave Phillip a weird look.

“Sorry, I’m having a really hard time coming to terms with the fact that I’m out of the basement and it’s manifesting in sarcastic humor.”

“Fair enough.” John shook his head. “I gotta call him.”

“Is he here?”

“No, he’s in Philly.”

“Why’s he in Philly?”

John took a deep breath, still not quite believing who he was talking to. “He has this work thing. He’s supposed to get back tomorrow.”

Phillip nodded. “So am I really out or is this some sick joke?”

“No, you’re out.” John sat back down, tugging at his hair. “God, I’m sorry, it’s just, you’re Phillip.”

“I am.”

“Do you know how much Hell your father has given me?”

“No, but I was missing, so that’s on you.”

John smiled. “Yeah, it is.” He pulled out his phone. “Look, I’m gonna call him, alright? Get him coming back. He won’t, he won’t be here for a few hours, but if you don’t need a hospital, I can take you back home.”

Phillip nodded.

John found Alex’s contact and called him. Phillip opened up the water bottle and drank some. Since the energy in John’s body was at levels higher than it had been in a while, he had to get up and pace as the phone rang.

“Babe, still in a meeting,” Alex’s exasperated, yet loving, voice gasped as he picked up.

“You need to come back to New York, right now. Right now.”

“John, baby, first of all, you can’t tell me what to do, so don’t start this conversation with that tone, and second of all, I am literally at work right now.”

“No, Alex, shit.” John shook his head. “This is really important that-”

“My work is really important too. Can it wait until tomorrow?”

“Probably, but you don’t want it to.” John looked at Phillip. “I have someone you really need to talk to, right now.”

Alex let out a long sigh. “If this isn’t worth my time I’m gonna-”

“It is, I promise.” John put the phone on speaker, then set it in front of Phillip. “Say hi.”

Phillip peered at the phone quietly for a moment, then opened his mouth. “Dad?”

Alex was quiet. “I’m sorry, who am I speaking to? John, what kind of sick joke is this? When I get back up there-”

“Alex, shut up.” John groaned, then looked at Phillip. “Go on, it’s okay.”

“Dad, it’s me.”

“Me who?”

John was fed up with it at this point. “Oh my God! It’s Phillip! It’s your son Phillip! He isn’t really dead! He was in the basement! This is him! It’s Phillip! We found Phillip! Jesus fucking Christ! God!”

Phillip gave John an incredulous look.

“Sorry.”

“Wait, hold on. I’m sorry, Phillip? Where is Phillip?”

“Uh, well, I’m on a roof right now,” Phillip started.

Alex was quiet. “Phillip?”

John pondered the idea of jumping off the roof.

“Yeah, Phillip. Me. Me Phillip.”

“Like, my son Phillip?”

“Yeah. I mean, unless there was some secret adoption you never told me about.”

“Oh my God.” Alex was quiet. “Oh my _God_. Okay, okay, oh my God. Okay, okay, Phillip, Phillip baby, are you listening?”

Phillip nodded. “I am, Dad.”

“Alright, I love you so much. I love you so much. You stay with John. John, don’t you let him out of your sight. Okay, look, I’m gonna get on a bus right now, okay? I’m gonna be there in two hours. I promise. I’ll be there. You stay with John, he’ll make sure you’re okay. I’m gonna be there soon. I love you so much. I love you so much. You’re so good, Phillip. I love you so much.”

Phillip was tearing up. “I love you too, Dad.”

“Don’t you go anywhere. I’m gonna see you real soon. Don’t you worry, I’ll be there real soon. I love you so much. I love you so much.”

“I love you too.” Phillip’s voice cracked.

“I’ll be there so soon. I’m getting my stuff now. I love you so much. I love you so much. You’re so good, Phillip. You stay with John. Don’t you leave him, he’ll keep you safe, I promise. John, are you there?”

“I am,” John smiled, feeling his eyes water.

“You take my son to your office and you don’t let anyone in or out. I’ll kill you if he’s not there when I get to the precinct.”

“I know, he’ll be here. I promise. He’s right here. I’m not letting him go.” John put his hand on Phillip’s shoulder.

“Okay, Phillip, I’m gonna go now, but I promise, I’ll be there so soon. I’ll be there so soon. I love you so much.”

“I love you too, Dad.”

“Okay, so soon, I promise.”

“Okay.”

Alex hung up, and Phillip instantly began to sob. John let Phillip lean against him, comforting him as he cried. John felt so protective over this kid. He wanted to kill the man who had hurt him.

“Hey,” John mumbled softly. “Let’s go to my office. There’s a window I can open for you, so you can still breathe in the fresh air. I’ll turn on a movie, or I have books or paper you can draw on. There’s a couch you can sit on, you can even sleep if you want.”

Phillip nodded, wiping his face.

“Are you hungry? I can get you some food.”

Phillip shook his head. “Just ate.”

“Alright, well, if you get hungry, just tell me. I have snacks in my office too.” John led Phillip from the roof, down to the floor he worked on. “I want you to know that your father never, ever gave up on you. I had never seen a parent work so hard to find their child. He would call me at three in the morning with theories. He never… he didn’t stop believing in you.”

Phillip nodded as they entered the office. John was quick to open up a window, pull out some paper and a hardcover book in case Phillip wanted to draw.

“Movie or music?” John asked. “Or neither?”

“Music?”

“Is the radio okay?”

Phillip nodded.

John turned it on to an alt station, making it loud enough so they could hear. He had a lot of paperwork to do, but he didn’t want to do it, so instead, he started taking down and filing his corkboard, which was full of stuff.

“Was this your case?” Phillip asked.

“Huh? Oh, yeah, this was mine.” John glanced at Phillip for a moment, then back at the corkboard. “I’ve been working on it for about four years now. I’ve done other things, yeah, but this case, this has always been there.”

“How’d you find us?”

“Well, I was looking through the personal ads on Craigslist a few days ago, and that girl? Abigail? I saw her, recognized her, and then even had her parents come in, ID her, make sure this was the right girl. Set up a meet with an undercover detective, and then followed Peterson back to his house.”

“Peterson?” Phillip gave John a curious look.

“Yeah, uh, Scott Peterson. That was the guy who… He was the guy. Did he not tell you his name?”

“No, we just all referred to him as The Man.”

“Oh, well, now you know.”

“Do you think he’s going to go to jail?”

“God, yeah.” John put down his stuff and sat in a chair near Phillip. “At this point, we have enough to put him away for three life sentences at least.”

“Kids died down there,” Phillip spat out quickly.

John nodded. “Yeah.”

“We don’t know what he did with the corpses.”

“We’re excavating his backyard now, hoping to find some of them, bring peace to their families.” John noticed a large scar on Phillip’s hand. “What’s that from?”

“He shot me.”

“Oh.” John began to realize just how much this kid had been through.

“Was my dad alright?”

“No, not really.”

“But I mean, like, was he alright?”

John took a breath, thinking. “He was hurting, really bad. But he’s been working a lot. After we thought you died, he uh, he joined the legal team at this organization that fights human trafficking. He just, he really wanted to do something.”

Phillip nodded.

“You know, I’m really glad you’re alive.”

“I am too.”

John smiled. “Just, your dad told me so much about you, and I was so sad that I missed out on such a cool kid. I’m really looking forward to getting to know you.”

Phillip stared at John, creasing his brows. “Are you fucking my father?”

John’s eyes widened. “Uh…”

Just at that moment, Maria walked in with a doctor, saving John from having to answer that. John and Maria talked about paperwork, Phillip was given a medical evaluation and hooked up to another IV. No overnight hospitalization was required, but a doctor's appointment should be made as soon as possible, and weight gain should be high on the priorities, as well as sunshine and vitamins.

Maria stayed in the office with John for another hour, going over things while Phillip drew. Maria helped John with some paperwork, they discussed times for statements, and then she left with the files of the children who were not found, tasked with the duty of telling their parents.

John put a granola bar next to Phillip, then checked his phone.

Alex: I’m on the subway to Brooklyn now. Is Phillip okay?

John: Yeah, don’t worry about him. He’s alright. Sitting on my couch, drawing, eating some food, and drinking some water. Just got a medical eval. No hospitalization needed, but frequent checks should be happening for the next few months. I’ll tell you more when you get here.

Alex: Okay. Have you been talking to him?

John: Yes and no. I did for a bit but then his doctor came in, and Maria and I had to work on some stuff, so he just hung out.

Alex: Ask him how he’s doing for me.

John looked up at Phillip. “Hey, you’re Dad wants to know how you’re doing.”

“I’m alright.”

John: Said he’s alright. How much longer do you think?

Alex: Fifteen or twenty minutes. I’ll see you soon, I love you.

John: I love you too.

He put down his phone and sighed, looking back at Phillip and then at the paperwork on his desk. He really didn’t want to do it. He was still so shocked that Phillip, the son of the man he loved, was sitting in his office.

“Your dad will be here in twenty minutes,” John put out, tilting his head.

Phillip nodded.

“Do you need anything?”

“No.” The kid took a deep breath, pulling the blanket around his shoulders. “Did you really think I was dead?”

“Yeah. I mean, legally, you are.”

“I can get that changed, right?”

“Yeah, you can.”

“Okay, cool.” Phillip thought for a little bit. “Did people care that we were going missing?”

“Yeah, a lot of them did.”

Phillip nodded quietly, and they both stopped talking.

Twenty minutes later, John’s phone rang. John picked it up, sighing a bit. “Hello?”

“John Laurens!” Alex’s loud voice called out. “I am outside your precinct and the doors are _locked_! Would you explain yourself?”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, we wanted to keep the press out. I’ll come down and get you.” John hung up and looked at Phillip. “Stay here. Don’t move, don’t let anyone try and get you to leave this office, okay?”

Phillip nodded. “Is my dad here?”

“Yeah, he’ll be up in a second. I just gotta go get him. The doors are locked.” John left the office, closing the door, then went down to the main entrance. He could see Alex ignoring reporters who were asking him way too many questions, standing at the front of the door, and tapping his foot impatiently. John was quick to open the door, letting Alex slip in before locking it again. “Hey.”

“Is he okay? How is he?” Alex asked breathlessly.

“He’s fine, he’s fine, come on. He’s just in my office.” John took Alex’s hand as they began to walk. “Are you okay?”

“I won’t be until I see him.” Alex shook his head, swallowing hard. “I can’t… John’s he’s supposed to be dead.”

“I know.”

“You _told me_ he was _dead_.”

“I know.”

“How is he not dead?”

“I didn’t go to medical school, Alex.” John laughed a bit at his boyfriend. “Hey, it’s gonna be okay. Everything is going to be okay.”

“I just want to see him again. I can’t believe it. Two years. Two damn years.”

“I know, he’s here though.”

Alex paused as they got to John’s office. “Oh, man, why am I scared to do this?”

John sighed, taking both of Alex’s hands. “It’s going to be okay. He’s your son. He misses you more than anything. Just, it’s okay. Don’t worry.”

Alex nodded. “Alright, I’m going to do this.”

John kissed Alex’s forehead, then opened the door, letting the man step into the office.

“Dad?”

“Phillip?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THE END
> 
> What was your favorite part?
> 
> What was your least favorite part (be creative)?
> 
> What surprised you most?
> 
> Who was your favorite character?


End file.
